


Magic and Alchemy

by trueallneutral



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, DnD inspired magic, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other characters to appear later, Pining, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Tiefling Character, follows canon but takes detours, no beta we get trapped in amber
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trueallneutral/pseuds/trueallneutral
Summary: The harshest lesson he’d learned, and was still learning, was that the future was too unpredictable. He’d had plans, ideas of what he would do and where he would go after he graduated. Instead he finds himself running away, transported to Old Corona with the help of a panicked teleportation spell. The alchemist that finds him, as eager to help as he is to make a name for himself, is just one more reminder that any good plan can be disrupted by a single decision.
Relationships: Varian (Disney)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Winds of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varian brings home a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fanfic and of course it features Varian. Why am I not surpised? It's been a long time since I've written anything, but I've had this in my head for a long time now and thought, "you know what? lets have some fun!" So here we are.

Magic hums, vibrating in the air around him, the glow from the rune beneath him increasing with each passing second till it was blinding. He refused to move his hands as a pulse ripples from the edges of the rune towards the center where the air _twists_ like knotted rope trying to be pulled apart. His gaze stays fixated on his hands as pulse after pulse sweeps through him, pulls at his magic to power the spell, barely able to keep his hold as exhaustion tugs at every bone in his body. He knows he’s not alone. He can hear a voice calling to him but the words can’t make it through the blood pounding in his ears.

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care.

He just needs.

To get.

 _Away_.

* * *

Varian waited with bated breath as three boys raced past his tree then stopped a few feet away, their faces twisted in anger as they searched the bushes for him. Jude, face red, cheek swelling with a steadily defining bruise, shouted, “Where are you wizard-boy?!” Varian would have rolled his eyes, at the nickname and question (like he’d really reveal himself just like that), if Jude didn’t look like he was going to explode. Oh, no, there he goes, kicking the bushes with wild abandon. The other two, also sporting bruises, watched him warily from a distance. They weren’t happy either, probably wouldn’t mind getting their own hits in, but Jude was always the most aggressive kid. It’s a good thing Varian is up high, and has a good grip, because he feels like a statue, hardly daring to turn his head in fear of drawing their attention. To his relief Jude starts storming away, kicking every bush that dares to cross his path, the others following him at a careful distance.

He doesn’t move though. He knows this trick from Flynn Rider, the one where the protagonist thinks they’re safe and leaves their hiding spot only to end up captured by the villain. Oldest trick in the book. He moves so his back is against the trunk of the tree, carefully adjusting his legs along the limb to a more comfortable position, before looking upward. Spots of light fall on him through the swaying leaves, assuring him he has plenty of time to wait before he needs to head home. That means Jude had plenty of time to look for him though. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes. He wished he had brought a book or something, it was going to be boring sitting up here all day. At least his notebook would have been nice, then he could try to work out what had gone wrong.

A few days ago, he had overheard Jude complaining about his ball not bouncing anymore and how his parents were too busy to buy him a new one. Seeing the opportunity to prove himself, while quietly hoping that it could act as a peace offering, Varian had dared to suggest a solution. What was science without some risk? Thankfully, he’d managed to get his offer out before Jude decided to beat him up. While everybody was always skeptical of his inventions, assuming from the get-go that they would explode (an unfair assumption, he thought, since only ten percent of his inventions exploded), Jude had no problem taking risks if it meant he got something out of it. A shame he was such a jerk, he’d make a great lab partner otherwise. So a deal was struck, Varian’s safety for a toy that could bounce better than before, leading to the creation of the ultimate bouncy solution: Rebouncium!

It had worked wonderfully, the ball was practically good as new and Jude had actually looked impressed! Sure, he probably still hadn’t wanted anything to do with Varian, but he at least said thank you!

Then today Jude had come barreling down the street at him covered in bruises, face twisted in an ugly scowl, his friends not far behind with matching appearances. The solution had been working great for the past few days, but had started to wear off. Not surprising, he’d even warned Jude that it was probably going to need a new spritz every so often. What he hadn’t counted on was the solution having such a volatile reaction towards the end of its course, gaining speed and momentum at a dangerously fast rate with each consecutive bounce. Jude and his friends had unfortunately ended up in its path, before it smashed its way into his house. It then proceeded to break through the furniture, the walls, the pictures before the ball finally burst at the seams under the stress; everything his dad was going to hear an earful about.

Grimacing, he covered his face with a groan. Right, his dad. He was already upset from Varian’s last experiment that had melted a hole through their kitchen floor straight to the basement. It was meant to be a simple cleaning solution to get rid of stains, but he miscalculated the ingredients. While the coffee stain was gone, his dad had not been happy about having to fix the new hole, even less so when Varian tried to joke about using it as a shortcut. Despite how much he had tried to offer his help, all he got was a heavy lecture about why his experiments were meant to be kept in the lab before he’d been grounded from alchemy. Said grounding had only ended a week ago.

The corners of his eyes burned as his breathing became shaky. Why couldn’t things go right for once in his life? He was trying so hard, putting as much effort as he could to make sure every invention went smoothly. Instead it blew up in his face! How many times were the villagers going to come storming to his house to complain about his latest failure while his dad tried to placate them? Make promise after promise that this wouldn’t happen again, only to be met with disbelief and exasperation. He hated watching his dad’s shoulders slump with each failure, letting out that long-suffering sigh Varian had started to hear in his dreams before turning to him with a look of disappointment. Always disappointment. Even on the days when Varian’s experiments were a little too explosive, the concern was quick to be replaced with the same look before he’d sigh out a warning to be more careful. The few times his inventions did work perfectly never got the reaction he wanted either, just a strained smile or a faint look of exasperation before his dad asked if this invention was “necessary.” Of course they were! They were supposed to make things easier, take some of the stress from their daily life so his dad had one less thing to worry about! Why couldn’t he just be proud of him?

A harsh breeze brushed past him, making him shiver.

Sniffling, Varian dropped his hand only to immediately use it as a shield when light danced into his eyes. Grimacing he pushed himself upright, frowning when he saw the sun had gotten much lower than before, steadily turning the blue sky into a burnt orange. Had he really been sitting here for a couple hours? It felt like only a few minutes had passed since he’d closed his eyes. Dread started to crawl into his stomach. His dad should be done with work and is probably waiting for him at home. For a moment, he considered living in this tree, away from the judgment that was waiting for him. He’d read plenty of books on survival, when he’d been planning a camping trip with his dad, plus he could use his amazing genius to build some equipment with the help of mother nature. It’d be easy, no different than how men survived in the wild before they started building houses. Heck, _he_ could totally build a house just for himself. At least out here the only ones to disappoint were the forest animals, who couldn’t even yell at him if he did mess up.

Another harsh breeze swept past, an equally harsh shiver wracking his body as he rubbed his arms. Having short sleeves was not helpful right now. A resigned sigh escaped him, he looked around half-heartedly for any signs of Jude, but the forest was quiet. He needed to get home before his dad got worried, that would not help his case at all. Maybe if he was lucky his dad would still be out in the fields or talking to the villagers. It’d be nice if he had more time to plan his apology, especially if he could do it while getting dinner ready. Raking his fingers through his hair, he took a couple shaky breaths before swinging his feet over, beginning to cautiously make his way down to the next branch. Another cold breeze blew past, his teeth grinding against the desire to curl in on himself, focusing instead on where his feet needed to go. That focus vanished quickly when something flashed out the corner of his eye, causing his head to jerk in the direction, foot completely missing the branch.

Varian lay face down on the ground, contemplating if a curse had been placed on him.

Pushing himself up he carefully brought a hand to his nose, nearly collapsing back on the ground in relief when his hand came back clean. A bloody nose would have been the icing on the cake. His head snapped up as another flash of light appeared, staring in the direction of the river where it continued to flicker through the trees. The cold wind hadn’t stopped. Getting to his feet he slowly made his way towards it, curiosity driving him forward with the smallest whisper in the back of his head telling him this probably wasn’t a good idea. Coming to a stop at the tree line, his mind blanked at the sight before him.

Down at the river’s edge was what could be described as a miniature tornado coiling around itself as lightning fired harmlessly off into the area around it without a sound. Smoke rose beneath it as the grass was burned away, the only thing keeping the smell at bay being the harsh wind. Even the water nearest to the twister seemed to be affected, aggressively pushed and pulled by an invisible force before its current carried it to the safety of downstream. There was no time to process the sight, to throw out theories or observations or freak out, when the scene changed in the blink of an eye. The tornado spasmed violently, the lightning pushing down on it to force it into a tight ball, before it expanded with a loud _pop!_ The river was bathed in a bright flash of light, lightning firing silently into the air before disappearing. The wind crashed into his back, nearly toppling him over if it wasn’t for his grip on the tree. Something appeared at the center of the chaos, floating briefly in the air before it was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground. In another blink, the tornado was gone. There was no more lightning, not even a lingering spark. The harsh wind was gone, a much gentler, warmer breeze brushing past as if to apologize. The only sound left was the babbling river, now calm.

Varian was not calm, he was laughing hysterically, “What?! Where did it, how could it have?” His hands ran wildly through his hair, gaze darting over the riverbank as he tried to work through everything he’d just witnessed. His eyes caught the lump lying on the ground –

Oh god that’s a body.

This couldn’t be real. This had to be – Wait. Of course, that’s what it was, a dream! He was probably still in the tree, peacefully slumbering the day away as his dad got dinner ready at home. He really needed this dream to end then, no sense in worrying his dad on top of making him angry. Though how he hadn’t fallen out of the tree yet was beyond him. He laughed, calmer now, shaking his head at himself. How on earth had he come up with this dream? It was probably those trashy fantasy novels he’d gotten recently, filled to the brim with weird unexplained events like this. Still laughing he rolled up his sleeve and pinched himself, only to quickly release with a startled hiss of pain. Pain. “What?!” This was real?!

Movement out the corner of his eyes makes him jump back, staring at the body in horror as it shifts. It doesn’t move to get up though, instead falling still again. Letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, Varian looked nervously over his shoulder. He really should get his dad, this was, this was a lot already. Mysterious people appearing out of thin air from weird weather events were probably best avoided. The person wasn’t moving anymore though, their stillness becoming more worrying with each passing second. His heart leaps, the thought of them being seriously injured from the event making his stomach clench uneasily. He couldn’t just leave them here, at least not without checking on them. Slowly he moves closer, gaze darting along the body for even the slightest twitch of consciousness. The closer he gets the more he realizes that this body.

Isn’t human.

Varian slowly crouches down, gawking at what is definitely not a human person. Still person shaped, but humans don’t have red skin or horns on their head. A name dances at the tip of his tongue, realizing with a start that he has seen one of these people before. He came through a long time ago, when Varian was much younger, but had left as quickly as he appeared. Varian remembered getting glimpses of him as he walked through town, of wanting to talk to him, ask him how he got his horns, but his dad was always there to push him in the other direction. Looking back now, the whole town had kind of avoided him, whispering among themselves, casting him suspicious looks. The village had only calmed down once he had moved on. He can’t recall if they were ever treated terribly, but the memory of the distance between them and the village made him pause as he studied the one in front of him. Were they dangerous?

This one doesn’t look dangerous; in fact, he almost looks like he’s Varian’s age. A whimper snaps him to attention. His…guest hasn’t woken up, but he twitches, letting out another, quiet, whimper. “Oh, hey,” he breathes, mentally berating himself for paying attention to his appearance rather than his injuries. Burns cover his body, visible through the holes in his singed clothes. None of them look serious though except for the ones that crawl from his hands up to his elbows. Varian grimaces at the sight, silently thankful for the lack of blood, noticing that the ends of his sleeves are blackened and frayed. He takes another look around, finding a backpack not far from his guest that’s also singed. The weird thing about it is the wooden staff attached to the side, probably reaching his shoulders at its full height with a gemstone fixed atop it. Another whimper has him shaking his head. No time to ponder that, he could figure it out once he got his guest home. Varian’s hands hovered over his guest, gaze flitting from him to the backpack as he tried to figure out the best way to carry them. “I guess you’re not going to wake up and make this easy on me,” he said with a weak chuckle.

His guest’s response was to stay unconscious, leaving Varian to awkwardly gather him in his arms before grabbing the backpack. A huff of annoyance escapes him when the pack swings from his arm; maybe he should have done this the other way. His gaze flicks over the area again for any more belongings, unable to help but notice that the blackened ground beneath them forms a strange circle. He was forced to push it aside though as his jostling earned him a pained whimper. “Sorry.”

It’s only as he starts making his way home, arms full of an inhuman stranger that appeared out of thin air, that he realizes he has no idea how he’s going to begin to explain this to his dad.


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're always the toughest.

Getting his guest back to the house somehow proved to be the least eventful part. Jude and his friends didn’t ambush him, they had probably gone home long before the sun began to set. He had taken a different way back anyway in the hopes of avoiding any villagers, especially at this time when everybody should be returning from the fields. While his house was set further away, more towards the wall surrounding Old Corona, there was usually somebody passing by for one reason or another. He’d been working on explanations the whole way over as he tried not to drop his guest, but each one felt too ridiculous.

How was he supposed to explain what happened without sounding crazy? Sure, for the occasional passerby he figured saying he found him unconscious in the river would work fine. It was weird, but at least he could use the excuse that his guest was an injured traveler. Then they’d ask, why not take him to the doctor? Well frankly Varian was a bit worried about handing off a stranger that appeared out of nowhere to the local doctor without telling his dad. Unfortunately, his excuses to take him home so his dad could take care of him felt flimsy at best. Besides that, he also found himself nervous about dragging his clearly inhuman guest into town. Sure, he didn’t recall the last horned traveler being treated too harshly, but it still made him feel self-conscious for his guest. His worrying seemed to have been for nothing though. No one had been nearby to see him scrambling awkwardly up the stairs as he tried desperately not to drop his guest. Had he finally run out of bad luck for the day? Or maybe his guest had taken the brunt of the luck for him, remaining unconscious throughout the whole trip?

That last part might be true, because when Varian, after a moment of struggling, managed to open the door he tripped over his feet and pitched forward with a yelp. It’s only instinct that has him twisting them so it’s his shoulder taking the brunt of the damage, while his guest enjoys a bumpy ride. The whine he gets says otherwise. “Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, gently as possible rolling the other off him before throwing himself at the door to close it. He let out a relieved breath, taking a moment to lean forehead against the wood to calm his racing heart; he was positive nobody had seen him. Returning to his mission, he grabbed the discarded bag, unhooking the staff to lean it against the wall before placing the bag next to it. “Dad?” he called hopefully as he crouched next to his guest.

If his dad were home, he would have already been calling for him. Probably would have been waiting in the living room with a lecture fully prepared. Instead the house was quiet, leaving Varian torn between relief and frustration. Well, at least he had even more time to plan his explanations. “Okay, here we go,” he grunted, hooking his hands beneath his guests arm pits, carefully as possible dragging him into the living room. While the pack wasn’t heavy, it was much easier to maneuver his guest onto the couch without something swinging haphazardly from his arm. Exhausted, Varian allowed himself to sit on the coffee table – ignoring the scolding voice in the back of his mind – taking a moment to observe his guest better in the safety of his home.

He had red skin, with darker red hair in a mess of tangled locks that fell to his short, pointed ears. Atop his head, spaced evenly, were two black horns curled upwards to a point, each a perfect mirror of the other. They weren’t too long but were not short enough to be easily hidden. He probably had a difficult time finding hats if he ever attempted to wear them. His facial features were sharp and defined; if it weren’t for all the obvious traits that defined him as “not human” his face alone would have made people pause. Varian hazard that they were probably the same height, his gaze drawn to the clawed hands resting on his stomach. Movement out the corner of his eye had him turning to glare at the thin, spaded tail. While it’s owner would occasionally twitch, that thing had been in constant motion, like a cat’s tail, threatening to wrap itself in Varian’s feet and send them toppling. It nearly had once. Varian was glad his dad hadn’t been around then otherwise he’d be getting an earful about language too. Huffing at it, he turned back to his face, unable to help but marvel at how different they were.

The pained groan from his guest snaps him from his thoughts, noticing the other’s eyes fluttering. Relief washing over him, he moved closer to his guest as he started to stir, hand reaching out for his shoulder. “Hey, take it easy –”

They both screamed. Varian recoiling in shock and pain, landing harshly on his backside as his hands fly up to hold his nose. He hisses, eyes squeezed shut as he applies pressure but forces them back open when he hears a flurry of movement. It takes only a moment to find his guest, pressed against the opposite wall of him. He’s ready to speak, maybe to give a sarcastic thank you or some reassurance that it’s okay, but the words die on his tongue, time slowing to a stop as their eyes lock.

Two pitch black pools with a golden ring in the center stare back at him.

Varian swallows under their intense scrutiny, as those eyes pick him apart piece by piece until they’re staring straight into his soul. Like his guests’ fist, it hits him that this was probably the stupidest thing he could have done. Sure, he looked peaceful, even a little pitiful with his injuries, but that was when he was unconscious. Now he was very much awake, had attacked him, was still glaring at him; who knows what he was going to do next? Where was his dad when he needed him?

“Hi,” he said, the greeting bursting out louder than he intended. His guest jumps, time catching back up to them as his soul is freed from the golden rings. Breath coming a little easier, Varian realizes with a start that he’s not the only one freaking out. His guest has his back pressed to the wall, arms curled protectively against his chest as his tail lashes to curl around his thigh. His stare is still intense, but Varian can now see the fear on his face as his gaze flits around the room then back to him. It’s sort of relieving to know they’re in the same boat before guilt punches him in the face too. If he weren’t holding his nose, he would have smacked himself. Of course, his guest was going to freak out, he was injured and he just woke up in a new place with a complete stranger! Trying to smile reassuringly through the pain, Varian slowly drops his hands, extending one cautiously toward his guest. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

There’s blood on his hand and the taste of iron on his lips, his last vision being his guests shocked expression before passing out.

* * *

His gaze snaps down towards the gloved hand being slowly extended towards him, grimacing at the splash of red smeared over it. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” the human said, offering him a smile through the blood on his face. He doesn’t have time to think about whether it is okay or not, because the human catches sight of his bloody hand. His freckled face goes blank as his skin turns white as snow, before his blue eyes roll into the back of his head as he falls back.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, instinct taking over as he pushed himself off the wall, hand reaching for the human. They’re too far apart though. He freezes halfway with a grimace at the thud, hand still frozen in mid-air.

Should he do something? Help him? It’d be the right thing to do but he can barely focus as it is, too consumed with feeling lost to get his limbs back in working order. Where was he? Where was the last place he had been thinking of? Wait, he’d been panicking, did he even think of a location before teleporting?! How could he screw up the simplest rule of teleportation?! Okay, okay, focus on the here. So he was sent here to this house? Or did this human find him somewhere? Was that a good or bad thing? The human didn’t look mean despite getting his nose busted. Wait, he busted the human’s nose! He should probably check on him, no doubt he was still bleeding. Should he try to wake him up? Maybe he should just leave. Sure, the human looked nice while he was conscious, but what if somebody else found them? He doesn’t know where they are, who knows how this place feels about tieflings? Right, he should leave. Ignore the burns for now, maybe get the boy onto the sofa and then leave a note apologizing, get his stuff – Wait, where’s his backpacks? Where’s his staff?!

Lost in his panicking he didn’t hear the door open and close, but he did hear the voice calling out “Varian?” Head snapping up, he watched in horror as an adult human stepped into the living room. Time freezes as they lock eyes. The man’s eyes widen, gaze flicking over him quickly, then snap down to the boy lying on the ground. He wants to say something. He’s the one who’s been dragged here without his consent and it’s the boys’ fault for scaring him. It was self-defense! It’s all a misunderstanding!

Instead his mouth remains locked tight, watching in growing dread as the man’s eyes darken, face hardening as it lifts back up to meet his. Shit. Magic surges into his palm as he thrusts his hand forward at the man launching himself across the living room. The human is thrown back but doesn’t lose his balance, rocking onto the balls of his feet as he charges again. Another pulse of magic before he throws himself forward, his form dissipating as he phases through the human to the other side of the room. He staggers when he re-materializes, vision swimming as exhaustion nearly pulls him down. Behind him, he hears the thud of something hitting a wall. Shaking himself awake he swivels to the right to see a door, his staff and backpack sitting not far from it. He takes a step. Something brown rushes him at the corner of his eye. Throwing himself back with a scream, he raises his arms to shield himself as wooden splinters explode against the wall, raining down on him. A hand of iron closes around his arm, spinning him so they can grab the collar of his shirt. His feet leave the ground, air rushing from his lungs as he’s slammed into the wall, hands flying up on instinct to claw at the hands.

“Who are you?” the human demanded in a startlingly calm voice, pressing him harder into the wall. He shakes his head, breathing harshly as every bone in his body aches with exhaustion and pain. He kicks his feet out, a frustrated snarl escaping him when he can’t get the momentum. The human doesn’t look impressed either, grip never wavering despite his clawing. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

Ignoring the tingling sensation in his arms, he throws his hand out, magic calling his staff towards him. The human doesn’t move his gaze from him, one hand releasing his shirt to swat the staff away. It clatters across the room and out of sight, his breath stuttering with each bang. “I won’t ask again,” the human said, hand returning swiftly back to his collar, leaning closer. He can’t get enough air, he can’t escape, his thoughts firing off like shooting stars as his eyes try to find a way out only to filled by the human looming over him. His nails dig harder into the hands holding him, magic fizzling irritably at his fingertips. The human doesn’t flinch, gloves protecting him from intense heat, instead tightening his hold. “Try to burn me as much as you want demon, I’m not letting go until –”

“Dad?”

The new voice cuts through the air, the human pulling back slightly. A breath of relief escapes him, at the cost of the last of his magic slipping from his fingers to leave them cold. The human cautiously turned his head enough to call over his shoulder without moving his gaze, “Varian, get upstairs.”

“Wha – Dad, what are you?”

“Varian I said –”

“Dad, let him go, you’re hurting him!”

He blinks, watching in a daze as the human boy dashes to his fathers’ side, bloody hands grasping at his arm. The father’s brows raise to his hairline before furrowing as he peers cautiously at his son from the corner of his eye. “He attacked you,” he said, eyes darting to the blood smeared down the boy’s chin.

“No, no, no,” the boy said quickly, gripping harder onto his arm but not pulling. It probably wouldn’t have done much good, not with those scrawny arms, he notes absently. He flinches as blue eyes suddenly lock onto his own. There’s no anger there, instead the boy looks weirdly guilty before he looks back at his father. “It’s my fault. I found him at the river unconscious and brought him here –”

“Varian.”

“When he was waking up, I got too close and scared him. He didn’t mean to hurt me! It wasn’t even an attack, really, he only hit me once then backed off! He’s just confused and –”

“Varian!”

“He’s hurt!”

Silence falls between them, the boy staring pleadingly up at his father. The father who still hasn’t moved his gaze from him, despite the small argument, and is now looking him over. His eyes land on his burned hands, brow pinching as he studies the injuries. He should probably feel uneasy under the scrutinizing, too many years under such eyes making him wary, but he’s too distracted staring at the boy. He was defending him? After he attacked him? The boy notices his gaze and offers him a small, nervous smile as he mouths, “sorry.”

Varian, that was his name, right? It has a nice ring to it.

There’s a heavy sigh and he starts when his feet touch the ground, the fingers in his collar slowly uncurling to let him go. The hand doesn’t leave though, instead transferring to rest firmly on his shoulder. It’s probably for the best, as he finds himself slumping back against the wall barely able to stand with his jelly legs. He doesn’t want to fall but everything feels heavy, his eyes fighting to stay open.

The man doesn’t look any friendlier, gaze still fixed on him for any sudden movements, though now there’s a layer of concern. Maybe even a little guilt, but that’s probably the exhaustion playing tricks. “Take it easy, you’re coming down from an adrenaline rush,” he said, voice stern, before turning to Varian. “Do you think you can get the first aid kit ready?” Varian nodded, rushing off with a flurry of confirmations after glancing worriedly at him. The man lets out another sigh when he leaves, turning and sizing him up. “Can you walk?” He scoffs, pushing himself off the wall. It’s not that impressive, he can feel himself shaking, clenching his fists in a fruitless attempt for control. He’s not going to be carried around like a child. The man frowns but doesn’t comment, guiding him towards the kitchen. “What’s your name?”

He starts to respond only to shut his mouth before even a letter could escape. Pursing his lips, his gaze darts away in thought as his stomach twists uncomfortably. His name? Was it still his name? Did he want that name? “North,” he said in a burst of inspiration, chest feeling lighter as the image of a night sky appears in his mind. “It’s North.”

“Quirin,” the man offered. As they come into the kitchen, they find Varian has set the first aid kit out on the table alongside a plate of bread rolls, a red jar sitting next to it. He’s already got his spot at the table, wet washcloth pressed to his face. He tries to smile at North around it. North can’t muster a smile, feeling the fingers dig roughly into his shoulder, making his chest tighten. “We have a lot to talk about.”


	3. Reckless Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirin has a pleasant chat with their guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got way longer than I initially planned, whoops.

Quirin rubs his eyes in the vain hope that it will stop the headache. Across from him Varian had just finished his explanation of what had happened, now staring nervously down at his empty plate. Their guest, North – Quirin doubts it’s his real name – is munching quietly on another loaf of bread, hands freshly bandaged. He hadn’t spoken much during the story, mostly because he was busy eating, other than to say “mini-twister is a pretty good description.”

On the one hand, Quirin is proud that Varian had wanted to help a stranger when he found them injured. On the other hand, North was a stranger, there were a thousand scenarios playing in his head about how much worse this could have gone. The kid had magic, what if he set the house on fire! He could have knocked Varian out intentionally and then stolen their valuables! He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. That was probably just the stress talking, but knowing a mage was sitting in his house and had – unintentionally, he tried to remind himself – assaulted Varian was making him uneasy. Alchemy he thought he could handle; magic was something he’d wanted to avoid at all cost.

“Go to your room Varian,” he said, shooting him a look when he tried to protest. “When I’m done here, we’re going to talk.”

Varian doesn’t hide his grimace, ducking his head as he nods. “Yes, sir,” he said, reluctantly gathering their plates to place them in the sink. He pauses at the table on his way out, offering North a shy, nervous smile. “It was, um, nice to meet you.”

He’s just about to enter the living room, when, “Sorry!” Varian stops, turning to look at North in surprise. North doesn’t meet his eyes, arms crossed defensively over his chest, tail lashing back and forth. “About your nose, it, I didn’t mean to. So,” he glances up at Varian but quickly adverts his gaze, “sorry.”

Varian grins, turning fully towards North with a hand rubbing the back of his head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not the worst I’ve dealt with,” he laughed, the sound grating on Quirin’s nerves. True as that statement was, he couldn’t find the humor in it. Varian doesn’t notice his ire, completely focused on North who is peering up at him with curiosity. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve burnt or nearly broken something! In fact, that cream you used? I specifically designed it for burns because –”

“Varian!”

“Goodnight!”

Quirin waits, counting the steps as Varian runs up the stairs to ensure he really is going to his room and isn’t trying to eavesdrop. It’s only when he can hear the distant sound of a door shutting that he turns back to North. Golden eyes watch him cautiously from across the table, arms curling more tightly around himself. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. He’s the same age as Varian, just a kid, he reminds himself. Bad impressions aside, he needed to keep that in mind, no matter how much his magic unnerved him.

“Alright, look,” he started, resting his clasped hands on the table but not moving closer. With how on edge he was, North would probably take any movement towards him as a bad sign. “We got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry for attacking you, I misunderstood the situation.” He waited, but North seemed less interested in interacting with him than he was with Varian. Waking up in a new place, having an unknown adult attack him, of course he wouldn’t be friendly. He could at least apologize for his half of the fight though, especially when he tried to burn a hole through Quirin’s gloves. If he hadn’t been so weak, he probably could have set him on fire. “You’re clearly a mage, and from the sounds of it you used magic to get here. Where are you going?”

There’s a long moment of silence, where North refused to meet his gaze. Quirin was beginning to worry that this is going to be a one-sided conversation when North finally turned to him. “I don’t know,” he said, the words strained as his cheeks darken with embarrassment, “I didn’t plan a destination, or at least didn’t have a solid one when casting. So, I got thrown here.”

Teleportation magic? Quirin had heard of it, but only powerful mages could harness it without the spell sending them to the middle of nowhere. Even then, it wasn’t a spell you used with no plan. Was North so reckless to use such a wild spell with no location? Clearly, since he was here. It would also explain those burns, crawling up his arms like spiderwebs, a common sign of a mage using a spell far out of their range. Why though? Was he a student that had bitten off more than he could chew? He was carrying a backpack and staff with him though. The staff was obvious, he was a mage, him not having one would have been a surprise. The backpack, he could recall, looked quite full, like this wasn’t meant to be a short trip. “Did you run away from home?”

“No, I’m on a field trip,” North snarked. He quickly looked away when Quirin shot him a glare, muttering a quiet, “yes.”

“Why?” This time the silence stretched on. Quirin gave him another once over. The burns on his body were the only injuries he could see; North hadn’t mentioned any others. No bloody clothes. He hadn’t been limping when they’d walked into the kitchen, though he swayed heavily with exhaustion. He was jumpy but that could easily be attributed to their fight. He tried to soften his feature, lowering his voice the way he did when Varian was upset. “Are you running from somebody?” No answer. “Are you in danger? North, if –”

“I’m not ‘in danger,’” North said, ignoring the glare he got for interrupting. He hunched further on himself. There’s a brief flash, a more fragile, hurt expression, before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. “I just, I wasn’t wanted okay? So, I left. Nobody’s going to come looking for me.”

Quirin frowned. Concern bubbled up into his chest, squeezing his heart uncomfortably, while another part of him worried about not having all the answers. “Nobody, not even your parents?” he asked, keeping the same gentle tone. No response. He allowed himself a sigh, using the silence to give another look over for any sign of origin. Unfortunately, North was dressed no differently than himself, in a simple white shirt with brown pants tucked into black boots; the only striking thing about his attire was the long dark brown jacket with faded blue trim. “Where are you from?” He has a few guesses, there’s only a handful of cities with a focus on magic, though there’s no guarantee that’s where North came from. It also doesn’t help him when his answer is a shrug. “North, you have to go back, I’m sure your parents are actually worrying themselves sick. If you tell me where your home is, we can send a message –”

A sharp laugh cuts him off, his teeth grinding in annoyance at the sound as North glares at him. “No, he’s not worried, and he’s not looking for me. What part of unwanted didn’t you get?” North snapped, lips curling in a sneer to reveal his sharp fangs. “And I’m not going back. You can’t make me.”

They glared at each other, Quirin’s eyebrow twitching. The problem was that, so far, that was true. If North didn’t tell him where he was from, Quirin had no way of sending him back. The cities he’d thought of were all too far away to investigate himself, and he had no contacts in any of them to do it for him. The only solid information he had was that North was being raised by a man, probably a single father, and that he was practicing magic. If he had been an adult, Quirin would have been more than happy to at least give him some supplies before sending him on his way. He was a child though, he shouldn’t be wandering out on the streets alone, Quirin wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully if he left.

“So, what are you going to do?” he asked, allowing the exasperation into his voice. The blank look he gets sets him on edge. “Do you have enough supplies to travel? Food, clothes, money? What about a map? If somebody jumps you are you able to defend yourself, with or without magic? Do you even know where you are?”

“Your house.”

Quirin smacks his hand against the table, making the candle between them sway with the force, “Be serious about this!” He dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his eyes as the headache comes back full force. Running his fingers through his hair he takes a deep breath before looking at North again. He almost wishes the tiefling would go back to avoiding his gaze, he doesn’t appreciate the defiant glare he’s getting. He’s a lot more tense now though, after Quirin’s outburst, pressed as far back as he can go in his chair without leaving the table. Taking another breath, he releases it slowly before speaking. “Using that Teleport spell, with no location or plan in mind, makes you the most reckless person I’ve met.”

It’s an exaggeration, he can think of two other people who nearly drove him crazy with worry, but here in the present North is the most recent.

“I don’t care if you think it’s reckless,” North said, raising his chin, despite the slight tremble to his voice, “what matters is that I’m not going back. In fact, if this bothers you so much, you can stop worrying about it tomorrow when I leave.”

“Absolutely not.” He immediately regrets the tone of his voice, the firm, no-nonsense, I’m not taking no for an answer voice. North straightens across from him, shoulders hunching to his ears as he watches him warily. Just a kid, he reminds himself with another deep breath. “Look,” he said, falling back to a gentler tone, “think about everything I just asked. Are you really okay with travelling into the unknown with just that backpack and your magic?” He’s prepared to be brushed off, for another sarcastic remark, but North remains quiet, gaze tracking his every move. “Until we can figure something out, why not stay here?”

“You mean until you can find out where I’m from?”

“Maybe,” Quirin said, “I need to think about what I’m going to do, but I do know I can’t just let a child walk off without any plans or supplies.” He sat back, crossing his arms, fixing North with a stern look. The tiefling may not like it, but Quirin was going to go with his gut on this one. “So, for the time being, you can stay with us.”

It’s not the best strategy. Having magic in the house has his stomach twisting uncomfortably, especially at the thought of Varian being near it. He could set him up with somebody else, even turn him into the authorities to let them figure out what to do with him. Maybe he would have even felt okay with that, if a little worried, but North has magic. While it tugs at memories he’d rather ignore, he can’t in good conscience dump magic he doesn’t know, especially magic belonging to a reckless child, into somebody else’s hands. So, for now, this is the best option.

North looked skeptical at the suggestion, studying his face for something. Quirin isn’t sure if he finds it or not. “Why should I trust you?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know what it means to you, but I can promise that you’ll be safe here,” Quirin said, trying to convey as much honesty as he could. North didn’t look convinced but said nothing. “If you do need to leave, then I’ll help you find somebody else or get where you need to go, but for right now I insist that you stay here.”

“Good to know, but that’s not what I meant,” North said, narrowed eyes turning into a glare. Quirin raised an eyebrow in confusion. “You’re not a mage, you smell like a farmer, you look like you just came back from the fields, how do you know what spell I used?” Years of training keeps him from reacting outwardly, while on the inside he’s frozen with surprise. North straightens up, keeping eye contact as he rests his arms on the table and leans forward. “Teleport is a powerful spell, only people who study magic or are near magic regularly would know about it. You correctly called it by name based off me telling you how I messed it up.” North pauses to let that information hang in the air, before jabbing a finger at him. “Also, you have surprisingly fast reflexes for some old farmer.”

Quirin shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief despite the sweat forming on his back. “I am just an old farmer, I just happen to run into some interesting people when they pass through,” he explained. It wasn’t untrue, quite a few people would pass through Old Corona on their way to the Kingdom. While mages, especially powerful ones, were rare around these parts, it wouldn’t be hard to believe that one had done the same. “Though not that old to fight, but I was going through adrenaline too.”

North’s glare doesn’t waver. A memory of an old rumor comes back to Quirin. How tieflings eyes were magical themselves, able to see every part of your life play out like it was their own. He stopped believing such things when he got older, but now he can see why they existed. The unnatural gold rings in pools of black are trying to tear through the careful mask he’d spent years crafting. A mask that he’d allowed to crack. Was it the sight of Varian, unconscious and bloody on the ground? Was it the strange tiefling throwing spells without hesitation? Was it the exasperation of an adult dealing with a rash teenager? Some combination of the events had made him, for a moment, forget that he was simply Quirin the leader of Old Corona, a widowed farmer with one son. A man who shouldn’t know the name of such a powerful spell, who shouldn’t be too skilled in fighting.

“Uh huh,” North said, skeptical. Quirin is sure he can’t see through his mask, but that doesn’t mean North trusts him enough to believe his denial either. “When you want to tell me the truth, maybe I’ll tell you where I’m from.” He definitely doesn’t know, but he’s bluffing so he has an excuse to keep the information to himself. A fact that irritates him more than anything else North has said, because Quirin isn’t being honest and he has no plans to ever come clean. Especially not to such a stubborn, reckless, dangerous child he had just met today.

He sighs heavily and shakes his head, like the tired parent he is. Denying it too much would just make North more suspicious, best to brush it off like it really was nothing. His gaze falls to the candle, now much shorter than when it was first lit. “Then I look forward to your explanation tomorrow,” he said, pushing himself up. He nods towards the darkened window. “We should head to bed, though, it’s too late. I’ve got a guest room for you.” He probably should have asked Varian to get that prepared, but it should have clean sheets anyway. Nobody in Old Corona ever stayed the night, but he liked to keep it ready in case old friends came knocking.

North shifts uncomfortably, gaze darting between him, the window, and his bandaged hands. Emotions flit so quickly across his face that Quirin has a hard time discerning them, though he’s sure he see’s anger every time their eyes meet. Eventually his shoulders slump, letting out a loud sigh like even the reaction itself cost too much energy. “Alright,” he said, standing up. Almost as soon as he took a step from his chair, he was swaying, hand shooting out to grasp the table to keep from pitching forward. Instinct has him moving, hands outstretched to steady North.

“Don’t touch me!” The snarl that escapes his throat can barely be considered human, golden eyes burning a hole through him as his lips curl back to reveal bared fangs.

He takes a large step back. He’s seen too much to be afraid of a teenager, even one that isn’t human. It is, slightly, unsettling the way his features twist with the snarl, how his fangs flash in the light of the candle, a very sharp reminder that North isn’t human at all except in shape. A small part of him understands the reaction; they had a fight, of course North would become agitated at any sudden movement. Right now, Quirin is more focused on the magic that sparks in his shaking left hand, fingers twitching to form a spell. They regard each other, waiting for the other to make a move to decide their own next course of action.

Taking a breath, Quirin slowly raises his hands in surrender. He kept his expression calm, non-threatening, despite how infuriating it was to be threatened in his own home. “I’m not going to hurt you North,” he said.

It’s not relief or understanding that makes North drop his hand, but exhaustion. He slumps forward, so much that it looks like he’ll really fall this time, but his nails scrape against the wood of the table and he hauls himself back up. Quirin doesn’t move. It takes a moment for North to catch his breath before he pulls himself to his full height, turning to Quirin with defiant eyes. His hand still shakes on the table, nails digging into the wood where they’ve left marks, but he jerks his head towards the arch way with a raised eyebrow.

For a moment, Quirin feels like he’s younger, watching his brother and sister as they stubbornly refuse help, asserting repeatedly that they were more than capable of handling their problems themselves. Normally, he’d tried to break through that stubbornness. He doesn’t know North enough to push though, and if the other is threatening to fling spells at the slightest movement he’ll have to keep his distance. Taking the candle, he moves slowly towards the living room, eyes trained on North in case he did fall. To his credit, when he leaves the table, he does manage to make it to the arch way. His steps are slow, heavy, and his hand smacks against the frame, nails leaving more marks as he steadies himself, but he doesn’t fall. Quirin frowns as he studies North, concern worming its way past his wariness. “Has something like this happened to you before?” he asked.

“Can I have my stuff?” North asked breathlessly, not meeting his eyes.

It’s late, Quirin reminds himself with a sigh. It’s too late to keep pushing questions, especially with North looking like he’ll fall over from a slight breeze. “Wait here.” He barely holds back a groan as he makes his way to the backpack, passing the shattered remains of the small table that used to sit next to the window. Another problem for tomorrow. The backpack, still sitting against the wall, is just as heavy as he feared it was. It makes him wonder about what North could be hiding, why he felt the need to use such a dangerous spell to run away from home. He’d said he wasn’t in danger, but he wasn’t wanted either. Was that true or could the situation be more complicated than that? Or, given he was a teenager, was it being blown out of proportion?

The staff, thrown to the other side of the living room where it rests beneath a window, almost makes him laugh in disbelief. He’s not one to believe in omens, but the sight of the moonstone affixed to the top has him shaking.

Forcing his hands to be still, he turns to find North has managed to move further into the room. The stairs sit next to the arch way with him standing at the bottom of them, hands gripping the railing so tightly the wood may just break under him. He’s not watching Quirin though, instead his gold gaze is trained towards the darkness of the second floor. Where Varian is. Quirin clears his throat loudly before he moves closer, North’s eyes immediately training on him then dropping to his staff. His hands twitch but he makes no move for it.

“Come on, this way,” Quirin said, jerking his head down the hall next to the stairs.

Pushing his unease to the side, he forces himself to go first, North’s heavier steps following as his nails scrape against the wall. A quick glance over his shoulder finds that this time they don’t seem to leave marks, a small relief given the others he’ll need to buff out. The guest room isn’t anything impressive, just a single bed with a nightstand next to it, a dresser pressed up into the corner. North doesn’t wait for any instruction, staggering into the room so he can drop onto the edge of the bed. Whatever fight he had in him had trickled away with every step of their small journey, his arms resting on his knees, body trembling with each ragged breath. Despite that, he manages to lift his head, watching warily through dark red locks as Quirin enters the room slowly.

He’s hesitating. He tells himself he’s just not trying to make any sudden moves as he slowly places the candle on the nightstand, then carefully lowers the backpack to rest next to it. All that’s left is the staff in his white-knuckled grip. Beneath his fingers he swears he can feel a steady, dull pulse. It could be the blood rushing in his ears, but every fiber tells him it’s the magic lying in wait, calling to be used. He doesn’t want to leave it here. His gaze catches North’s narrowed eyes, the only sound in the tense air being the crackle of the flame and the swish of a spade tail against the sheets.

He really doesn’t want to give it back to him.

Taking a slow breath, he reluctantly releases his grip to gently lean the staff against the wall. “I’ll leave this with you,” he said, reminding himself that North was not his kid, nor could he simply take his things as he pleased. He was child, a scared child who was lashing out at a perceived threat, he needed to know he was safe here. Taking the staff wouldn’t accomplish that, despite how his stomach violently twisted when it left his hands. He attempts to hide it with a playful smile that he knows looks bad even without a mirror, “I’m trusting you to not burn my house down.”

North scoffs and rolls his eyes.

Right. Quirin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched North from the doorway. “We’ll figure the rest of this out tomorrow,” he said, one hand gripping the door. Should he close it, or would that be too much?

“Quirin?” He stilled, peering cautiously back into the room. He’s worried, for a moment, that North may just tip right off the edge of the bed with how much he’s leaning over, head so low that he can’t see his eyes. “Where am I?”

“Old Corona,” he answered, watching North’s form carefully for even the slightest hint of recognition, “just outside of the Kingdom of Corona.”

North doesn’t even twitch at the new information. Quirin is just starting to wonder if he fell asleep like that, and if he’s going to have to fix him, when he finally said, “Okay.” His eye twitches at the one word, a rush of exasperation towards the recklessness of the entire situation rushing through him. Instead of responding, he shuts the door halfway. It’s only thanks to his training that he catches the quiet “Thank you” just before he begins to leave. He decides its best to pretend he didn’t hear it, making his way upstairs he peers back over the railing. No light comes from the guest room.

For a moment, he considers going to bed. It’s late, he’s tired, his head feels like somebody has taken a hammer to it several times over. Varian is probably still up though. This is proven true when he reaches the top of the stairs, finding a pale blue light peeking out from under Varian’s door further down the hall. His shoulders slump as he makes his way towards it. He knew he could just leave the conversation for tomorrow. He would still get up early in the morning, especially now to ensure their guest didn’t pull a disappearing act or cause trouble, so there would be time to talk to Varian then. Instead he knocks on the door, entering when he hears a way too awake, “Come in!”

Varian is sitting on his bed, dressed in his pajamas, fiddling with a wooden puzzle he’d bought some time ago. The mechanical limbs attached to his headboard still make Quirin tense, seeing them arched over Varian like spider legs waiting to ensnare their meal, even though one is affixed with a comb. Perfectly harmless, he reminds himself. On the nightstand sits a couple glowing beakers, held up in metal frames, casting the room in a gentle light. “Is everything okay?” Varian asked before Quirin even stepped inside.

“Everything’s fine,” Quirin said, lowering himself onto the bed with a grunt. Varian doesn’t look relieved, turning his gaze back to the puzzle with pursed lips. “Our…guest will be staying the night. Maybe even longer until I can figure something out.” Varian nods but doesn’t say anything, refusing to meet his eyes. Quirin waits, hoping that his son would at least start the conversation they were about to have, would at least apologize, but instead he remains quiet. “Varian what were you thinking? Bringing a stranger here?”

“He was hurt!” Varian said, finally looking up at him with pleading eyes. “I couldn’t just leave him on the side of the riverbank!”

“I’m not saying you should have,” he said quickly, despite a part of himself wishing this was somebody else’s problem, “but you should have taken him to Doctor Teddy instead, then got me.” He grips Varian’s shoulders, keeping their eyes locked as he tried to convey all the worry that had been crushing him since he came home. “Do you have any idea what could have happened? What if North did attack you on purpose? What if he was strong enough to use more powerful magic? If I hadn’t shown up when I did, who knows what he could have done.”

Varian looked down guiltily, aimlessly fiddling with the puzzle. “I’m sorry, I just, I didn’t know what to do,” he said, voice soft. “This was the first place I thought of.”

Quirin sighed heavily, releasing one shoulder to run the hand through his hair. Though, much as he hated to think about it, it probably was best Varian had brought him here. If North had attacked Teddy, if he’d been flinging magic in the middle of town, everybody would be much more on edge. It was a bitter pill to swallow but it might be better that this happened in the privacy of his home, where he could handle it without the town breathing down his neck.

“I want you to be careful around him, understand me,” he said, squeezing Varian’s shoulders tightly until their eyes meet. “We don’t know anything about him, so until things settle down try to keep some distance. If he’s ever hostile with you, if he threatens you, if he even looks at you the wrong way, I want you to tell me immediately, understand?”

“Yes sir.”

Quirin holds his gaze, searching for any sign that his words had an impact. Varian was so bright but so reckless, throwing himself into dangerous situations without so much as a pause to consider the consequences. Today was just one more example of a problem that wouldn’t seem to go away no matter how many talks they had. At least with alchemy, Quirin felt like he could handle the fallout from whatever failed experiment was planned for the day. He had plenty of practice over the years. This problem was too new, hit too deep, was too unpredictable. He wanted to believe that Varian understood his worry, that he would take his advice and remain distant, but he already knew that wasn’t going to happen. Varian probably had a thousand questions related to North’s magic; it wouldn’t be long before he’d try to find the answers himself.

“Are they dangerous?” Quirin snapped out of his thoughts at the quiet question. Varian glanced at the door, before shifting closer, one hand cupping over the side of his mouth. As if worried their guest would teleport into the room at the smallest mention. “Is he a demon?”

“Tiefling,” Quirin corrections automatically, releasing his shoulders to sit back. He wanted to press the issue of safety more, but knew they’d just end up talking in circles. “Not a demon, just a very…striking appearance. They can be dangerous, but not unlike anyone else.”

“The villagers didn’t like the last one that came through,” Varian reminded, brow furrowing in concern.

The memory of the last tiefling nearly knocks Quirin over in surprise. He’d forgotten about him, a lively individual who preferred sleeping out in the woods rather than finding a warm bed. He was surprised Varian remembered him at all, given how young he was at the time. Though he supposed such a striking individual would leave an impression. “I wouldn’t say that” he said, Varian’s comment catching up to him. “Tiefling’s don’t pass through here often, so everyone was surprised. However, he wasn’t treated unkindly.” If anything, the village probably would have grown to like him if he had stayed longer. He may not recall his name, but the times they had talked were pleasant, with the traveler more than eager to share his stories of adventure. Sadly, he was just as eager to keep moving, practically packing up as soon as he’d made camp.

“Then…” Varian said, hand coming to rest under his chin the way it did when he tried to work through a puzzle. “Why was everybody so nervous? If they’re not dangerous?”

Quirin really wished he had remembered to talk to Varian about this when he was younger. Now that the memory is coming to him though, he can also remember that not long after the tiefling left a devastating storm had swept through. He’d been so busy helping with repairs he’d forgotten about it. He supposed now was the best time as any. “Tiefling’s aren’t any more different than you or me,” he said after a moment of careful consideration, “they’ve been around as long as we have, however they’re incredibly uncommon. It’s not strange for some places to go years without seeing a tiefling unless some live in the area. So, people have very different reactions to them. Generally, while most people can be put off by their sudden appearance and…appearance, they’re fairly well accepted into communities.”

“So, the villagers aren’t going to hate North when they see him?”

“Not because he’s a tiefling,” he said. There’s no helping the rush of annoyance at the sigh of relief Varian lets out. The amount of concern Varian had towards North, while nice in the sense that his son is a kind soul, is frustrating when he remembers how dangerous North is. Not that he wanted North to be in danger either, but he’d prefer if Varian would show more concern for himself right now. “If the people have any trouble with him, it will be because of his actions rather than appearance.”

Given the attitude and spell flinging, that may prove true in the future. As if worrying about explosive experiments weren’t enough, he might have to add the village being magically set on fire to the list. He sighs heavily, deciding that for right now he’d just have to worry about it tomorrow, he needed to get to bed before he ended up sleeping here. Though the idea was tempting. If he stayed here, he could keep Varian safe if North did try anything, but unfortunately the bed was not built for the two of them and the floor would not be kind on his back. Instead he runs his fingers through his son’s hair before dropping his arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug that Varian responded to immediately by wrapping his arms around his waist. He squeezes a little tighter, a little longer, to reassure himself that Varian was okay. It helps when Varian doesn’t shy away, responding in kind by snuggling into his side.

“Goodnight, son, I’ll see you in the morning.” He grunted as he got to his feet, hands settling on his lower back to make it pop. Varian peered up at him with a silent question, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Also, you’re grounded for the, and I quote, “ball of death” that nearly destroyed Peter’s house. No alchemy for a week.”

Varian groaned, flopping down onto his bed. With a pull of a lever, one of the mechanical limbs came down to pull the blanket over him. “Yes sir.”


	4. Plans, pains and chats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North knows exactly what he's doing

A burning sensation, starting from the center of his palm, crawled up his arms past his elbows until it reached his clenched jaw, pulling him from sleep with a sharp gasp. Hissing, he lifted the arm over his eyes, blinking hazily at the white bandages that cover it from fingertips to elbow. Why was he bandaged? Why did everything ache in general? Dropping his arm back over his eyes, he tried to block out the light attempting to break through the curtains. Briefly he considered trying to sleep through the pain but that was quickly proving to be impossible. Letting out a soft whine he moved his arm down to his side, studying the ceiling as he tried to piece together what had happened. He’d probably pushed himself too far again in training. Hopefully he made it to his room on his own and didn’t pass out in the garden again, Winters would be disap–

Ignoring the protests of his screaming muscles, North jolts up, tossing the blankets off him as he looked around in panic. 

This isn’t his room, he’s not home.

That shouldn’t be relieving.

Breathing shakily, North pulls his knees up to rest his elbows on them, head in hands as he grips his hair.

Right. Okay. He wasn’t home, the teleportation spell had worked. His teeth grind at the throbbing pain in his fingers. Mostly. He’d been interrupted by one of the servants calling him, sending him into a panic where he let his location slip away. Where had he been planning on going? He glares down at the sheets, trying to wade through his foggy memories. He’d had several ideas, all nearby farming villages, that he couldn’t decide on but the servant knocking on his door had sent him into a panic. He vaguely remembered picking randomly, but it must have gotten lost during the casting phase. The only thing that had mattered at that moment was _leaving_. Which had worked. If he hadn’t immediately fallen unconscious, he’d consider the spell a grand success, injuries aside. Then some boy – Varian, he reminded himself – found him, took him home, North accidentally punched him in the face.

Then Quirin showed up.

North grimaces as everything starts to come back to him in much clearer pictures. Sighing he drops his arms, lifting his head so he can get a better look at the room. It’s utterly plain. Almost painfully so. No pictures on the walls, no little decorations to liven it up, the whiteness of the bedsheets really tied the boredom of the room together. It was a guest room, he figured, but putting in some color – besides himself – would do wonders. His gaze drifts to the halfway open door, the house completely silent beyond it. He was on the first floor, right? Near the kitchen? If they were awake, he would be able to hear them walking around so they were probably still asleep.

At least he had some time to himself before he had to deal with…whatever was next. Finding his backpack next to the stand, North tries to lean over and grab it. Why had it been placed so far away? Grunting in discomfort, he stretches further, hooking the tips of his claws in the straps and tugging it towards him. He nearly slips off the edge of the bed in the process but manages to grasp the nightstand to pull himself upright. He may have avoided a busted nose but pain rushes from his hand up to his jaw, forcing him to be still as he waited for it to fade into a dull throb.

Pulling the backpack into his lap and begins to check his supplies, trying to work through his trembling fingers. Everything at first glance looks in order so Quirin didn’t come back to go through his things, though he probably thought about it. He had definitely been thinking of confiscating his staff. North may have been exhausted but he hadn’t missed the way he hesitated to put it down, making sure to do it last, before looking at him with a carefully controlled expression of calm. _Still,_ a part of him grumbles as he counts his money, _he did give it back_. Which meant what? Quirin was confusing. He appeared genuine in his concern, but there was something else to it. Something was off about him in general.

North had used magic but Quirin hadn’t even faltered at the sight, not even the slightest pause as he tried to register it. Meaning this wasn’t the first time he had encountered magic or a mage. Something that was only confirmed true when he correctly named North’s spell, Teleport. Then there’s his fighting skills. He bounced back quickly after the first attack, then used the thrown furniture as a distraction so he could get in close. Had that furniture – what did he even throw, it hadn’t been that big – been meant to hit him or had Quirin expected him to flinch back? Whatever the intention, he knew what he was doing. All things that, honestly, didn’t mean anything to North because he didn’t know anything about Quirin. The guy could have been a retired adventure who travelled with mages or grew up in a city where magic was widely used. Yet, when North decided to push the topic, to get a better idea on who he was staying with, Quirin had lied.

He’s pretty sure he lied. There had been something in the way his mouth pulled a little thinner, in the way his shoulders went a little straighter, how the clasped hands on the table became a little tighter. It was small, very small, ticks that he’d barely managed to catch. They could have been tricks of the light; he was exhausted yesterday, but right now he’d rather believe that he was lied to. Sure, he didn’t know the area enough to say whether it made sense for mages to pass through regularly – especially powerful mages – but it still didn’t sit right with him that an “old farmer” would have no reaction when attacked with magic. He wished he’d brought that up last night. Though the fact he managed to hold a conversation at all with his head swimming had been a miracle.

North sighed loudly, dropping his head back into his hands as he tries to calm his scrambling thoughts. Maybe he’d have been better off waking up alone in the forest, at least then he wouldn’t have such a headache. Running his fingers through his hair a couple times, he takes slow, deep breaths. Right now, he didn’t need to stress about whatever bullshit Quirin was spinning, it probably didn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t going to be sticking around long so he needed to figure out his next move.

The map he’d dug out proved completely useless, not even on the furthest margins could he find Old Corona or Corona. So, on the one hand, he was as far away as could be from hom – the city. If he were reported missing, the authorities wouldn’t be able to find him anytime soon unless they used magic. On the other hand, he had absolutely no idea where he was or where he could head next. It wasn’t a hard problem to solve though, all he needed was to buy another map when he got the chance.

Until then though, he would have to stay here. Wandering off aimlessly had not been a part of his plan and he wasn’t about to start now. Especially with as banged up as he was, he wouldn’t be able to use his magic proficiently like this. Not just for defense, but he had also planned to make money by providing some magical assistance in whatever town he passed through. That probably wasn’t necessary here, he still had all his money, and he could just borrow some food from Quirin before leaving. Consider it compensation for assaulting a minor.

That meant all he needed to worry about was the map as he waited for his body to heal. At least to a point where he could use magic without his veins setting on fire, which, if his estimates were correct, should be around two weeks. Last time it took three weeks for the burns to heal fully, but he hadn’t been attempting such a powerful spell back then. He also couldn’t tell if his injuries this time were worse, which meant that the healing process could take longer. He hoped not, the possibility of living with Quirin, or anybody, for however long made him feel uneasy. Maybe he should see how this first week goes. If it ends well, he’ll stick around until he’s partially or even fully healed. If anybody starts to cause trouble he’ll have to leave, healed or not, map or no map. Shouldn’t be too hard to get directions for the next town over, he could probably slip it into a casual conversation somewhere.

 _Reckless,_ Quirin’s voice echoes at the back of his mind and he angrily shoves it away. He wasn’t being reckless at all! Reckless people didn’t waste time making plans! Were those plans perfectly fool proof? No, what plans were! Grumbling, he folded the map back up, burying it back into the pack before retrieving new clothes.

Changing clothes took far longer than he’d like, fingers stuttering over the buttons, barely able to maneuver the material before it would slip from his grip. After a lot more grumbling and sharp breaths, he finally had clean clothes on. _Although,_ he thinks, folding up the old shirt with the sleeves burned off to the elbows, _that looks kind of cool._ Setting the shirt off to the side with his pants, he turned to his jacket with a small frown. That wasn’t cool. There were singe marks and burn holes littering it, the worst naturally being the sleeves that had also been destroyed. Absently he fingered the collar, considering using Mending to at least repair the holes. It was a small spell, so simple it took no effort to use, but even that could agitate his injuries. With a frustrated sigh he began to fold the jacket. Hopefully there was a tailor in town, at least then he could also get the sleeves repaired. For now, though, it was probably best to leave it here where it couldn’t get more damaged.

He froze halfway through folding, ears twitching at the sound of footsteps. Gaze flitting up towards the ceiling he waits, unable to tell where exactly they were coming from just that they were close. Suddenly they stopped. Frowning, he turned towards the door, letting a small breath of relief when he saw no one there. At least Quirin hadn’t been staring at him through the crack. That didn’t explain why the footsteps stopped though? They clearly weren’t in the kitchen, otherwise he’d hear them getting breakfast ready. They also hadn’t been that far so they might not be upstairs either?

Wait, what if Quirin had stayed in the living room last night? North straightens, indignant. He was so exhausted last night he had immediately passed out; he couldn’t even recall if he blew out the candle or if his body hitting the bed had snuffed it out. It wouldn’t surprise him if Quirin had slept on the couch last night, with the way he watched North like _he_ was going to attack _him_. Did he think North was some sort of criminal that needed to be watched? That was completely unfair, because it was _Quirin_ who attacked him first without asking for an explanation! North was the victim here, he was the one in an unknown location with strangers, he had every right to be hostile! Scowling, he quietly makes his way to the door and throws it open, fully intending to face this new problem head on.

Bright blue eyes stare directly down at him.

Frozen, hand still grasping the door, he can only watch as Varian jumps in surprise from his position leaning over the banister. To his credit, he does not scream, but he does almost tip completely over the edge. Through his flailing he manages to hook his arm around the railing to pull himself back, then quickly hugs himself to it with a shaky sigh of relief. North hadn’t moved from his spot once, mouth slightly agape as he took in the scene. Varian stared back, steadily turning red with embarrassment.

“What are you doing?” North finally managed.

“Stretching!” He blinked at the too-quick answer, while Varian laughed nervously as he straightened up. “Yeah, just getting in my daily workout!” Grasping the railing he leaned back as far as his arms would go, then pulled himself forward to lean dangerously over the edge. So far, he could touch North’s horns if he wanted. The buck-toothed smile he wore was too wide, only adding to the steadily growing awkward air. “It gets the blood going so I’m ready for the day, not to mention helps build up those arm muscles!” He repeated the action, North’s hand twitching when he leaned a little too far and, again, began to tip. He righted himself quickly with another forced laugh as he stretched back.

“You’re a terrible liar,” North noted when Varian was getting ready to lean over again. He froze, the red in his cheeks spreading quickly to the rest of his face as he stops his ‘exercise’ and instead looks down at his feet. North cursed internally, he wasn’t trying to make the other feel bad, but he didn’t know what to say. This was the first time they had the chance to talk one-on-one, no Quirin around to pin him to a wall or stare him down for daring to speak to his son. Though, given their first conversation ended with Varian passing out, this was already a big improvement. Wait! “How’s your nose?”

Varian looked up in confusion, prompting North to reach up and tap the side of his own nose for emphasis. “Oh!” gloved hand flying to his face, hovering over the bruised area, he smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay! Just some light bruising, nothing I can’t handle.” North nodded and looked away, trying not to grimace as the silence settled back around them. He had already apologized, maybe he should do it again now that he was more awake? Guilt was still gnawing at his heels, made worse by how genuinely friendly Varian was. “What about you?” North looked back up in surprise to find Varian tapping his raised arm. “How’s your arms?”

His arms must be sentient because another rush of searing pain has him flinching, a sharp hiss escaping him as he instinctively moves to clutch his left arm. He barely stops himself, trembling hand hovering in place. “Could be better,” he said, forcing the words out. “Do you have any more of that burn cream?

Varian, having leaned over again with his hand raised in concern, straightened up like a whip. “Yeah!” he said, darting to the bottom of the stairs. North moved to join him, albeit much slower from pain and caution. “We always have some in the kitchen, we can get your arms cleaned and then get some fresh bandages. Also, breakfast, I hope you like pancakes! Wait, you haven’t noticed any weird side effects though, have you? Itching, swelling, numbness or tingling sensations? It looks like it hurts a lot, so anything that feels extra bad?”

Varian waited, shifting nervously on his feet when all he got was a blank stare. “No, no side effects that I’m aware of,” North said finally, brain catching up with him. Varian sighed in relief, shoulders sagging. He should probably be more concerned about that, but a memory niggling at the front of his mind refused to be ignored. “You said last night that you made it yourself, right? That’s pretty impressive.”

Varian stilled, blue eyes going wide with surprise. “O-oh, yeah?” he asked, all the energy dissipating to be replaced with an odd look. North nodded slowly. In the blink of an eye though, Varian had broken back into a wide smile, chest puffing out as his hands settled on his hips. “Well I am pretty impressive; you should see some of my other inventions though, Sootha Burn is nothing compared to them! I’m surprised you even remembered that. You looked pretty out of it last night.”

“It caught my attention,” North said, tilting his head a little at the flustered look he received. Despite the pain, curiosity overtakes him, bubbling up to fill his head with questions. Was Varian a doctor in training? Did he make it on his own or did he get help? How effective was it compared to other burn creams? Did he change the formula in any way and if so, how did that effect the product? Also, other inventions? Was he an inventor?

A sharp “ahem” from above cuts their conversation to a halt.

Looking up, North is almost stumped at the wave of annoyance that sweeps through him at the sight. Was it possible to feel this much negativity towards one person? He already couldn’t stand people looking down on him, having someone do it from a literal height advantage was even more infuriating. Yet there Quirin was, standing at the top of the stairs like a dissatisfied King, looking between his two subjects with narrowed eyes. Eventually that gaze locked on North fully, who wasted no time in glaring back. He was sure he saw the corner of Quirin’s mouth twitching, threatening to break that stony calm mask as he made his way down the stairs, neither breaking eye contact.

Once at the bottom step, he turned to Varian. North blinked in shock, huffing quietly when Quirin didn’t even have the decency to look agitated at losing the contest. Bastard. “You two are up early,” he said, smile not unkind but strained.

North also turned to Varian, surprised to find an odd expression on his face. Varian was looking nervously between them, but each time he looked at Quirin there was something like…sadness? Wait, was that guilt? North frowned in confusion. “Sorry,” Varian said, rubbing his arm, confusing North even more. What was there to be sorry about? “I wanted to make breakfast but I, uh,” his gaze darted to North then away, “got distracted.”

Quirin hummed, looking between them again. “Alright, what did you have in mind?” he asked.

“Uh, pancakes? I think we got some bacon too so,” Varian said slowly, “how many did you want?”

“Just one should be good.”

Varian nodded, before, with hesitation that hadn’t been there earlier, turning to North. North blinked back, still puzzling over the sudden change in demeanor. Sure, things had been a little awkward to start, but the conversation hadn’t been as difficult as it felt now. Varian wouldn’t even look him in the eye, instead focusing somewhere over his shoulder. Add that with his nervousness and it was almost like he was scared. Of him? No, if that were the case he’d be acting like this earlier, so –

Another cough breaks him from his thoughts, looking up in annoyance to find Quirin staring down at him with a raised eyebrow. Raising his own eyebrow in question, he turned to find Varian staring at him in confusion. Why where they looking at him like that? Wait, what did they say earlier?

…

Oh. “Oh! Uh,” North has never been more glad for red skin, otherwise he’d look like a tomato. If he didn’t burst into flames, he’d be too lucky. “One pancake! Small though, like.” He makes the size with his hands, thankful that Varian was still trying to avoid eye contact. He was such an idiot.

Varian nodded, darting off into the kitchen with a shout of “okay, coming right up!”

Quirin hadn’t moved though and North found himself feeling trapped, unsure if he should follow Varian or wait till the adult took initiative. “How’s your arms?” Quirin asked, breaking the tense silence.

North warily looked up at him. Quirin _did_ look concerned. A little. In general, he didn’t emote strongly, or maybe he was intentionally holding back? “Fine,” North said, refusing to flinch despite how each pulse felt like lava was running through his veins. “…Need new bandages though.”

Quirin nodded and began to make his way to the kitchen. North started to follow but stopped, staring at the broken wood lying in the hallway leading to the front door. It was small, with what looked like long legs from this distance, so it had probably been an end table. Looking up, he found Quirin had also stopped to look at the mess with exasperation, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not paying for that,” North said quickly.

Slowly, like a toy whose wind up was starting to rust, Quirin turned to him. His face was carefully blank as they stared at each other, the only movement being the small twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I wasn’t going to ask you to,” Quirin said, though something in his tone gave North doubt. Before he could retort, Quirin pivoted on his heel and entered the kitchen, taking his seat at the table. Varian had already set out the medical supplies, now with his back to them as he quickly mixed the pancake batter.

North hesitated, glancing towards the front door before, reluctantly, sitting next to Quirin and holding out his arm.


	5. North: Day One, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North gets his first taste of Old Corona

This was awkward.

He wasn’t sure why it had started to feel that way, when the lack of conversation earlier had felt strangely peaceful. The only sounds that had filled the kitchen had come from the stove, bacon sizzling as the air became warm with the smell of breakfast, the quiet hiss of bandages being wrapped. Maybe it was because earlier they all had something else to focus on, there wasn’t a need to have conversation. Now, the scraping of utensils on plates was far too loud in the quiet kitchen. Anticipation had taken its place at the table, all of them waiting for something to happen or for someone to speak.

Shoving another bite of pancakes into his mouth, North looked between his two hosts. Silence normally didn’t bother him, but he’d been expecting some explanation about what the plans were for the day. Even a light conversation, at least between the family if they didn’t include him. Instead he was treated to a silence that stretched, and stretched, to the point where he was beginning to suspect that there was no end in sight. He’d thought about complimenting Varian, he was actually a good cook, but his blue eyes were fixed firmly on his plate while he ate. The only interaction they had managed was when Varian had offered him the syrup and butter, giving him the strangest look when he’d refused both. He had looked like he wanted to ask, but then he’d looked over at Quirin and immediately averted his eyes. He’d barely made another sound since.

North didn’t know what _that_ was about, but he didn’t like it.

Speaking of Quirin, the prick was acting like absolutely nothing was wrong. Occasionally he’d look up between them, seem to consider something, then turn back to his meal without a word.

“So,” North said, faltering when two sets of eyes focused on him. Stars above, did it need to be this difficult. “What happens now?”

“We can talk about that after breakfast,” Quirin said without pause, turning back to his plate.

“Why?” North asked. “If you got something figured out, I want to hear about it. It does concern me after all.”

Quirin closed his eyes briefly, a heavy sigh pulling his shoulders down. North didn’t bother to hide his scowl of annoyance, ignoring Varian’s nervous stare switching between them. They were almost finished with breakfast anyway, he didn’t know why it was such a problem to bring it up now. “Varian are you finished?” Quirin asked. It really wasn’t a question so much as a large hint to ‘get out’ so Varian quickly shoved the rest of his pancakes in his mouth, confirmation muffled around the sticky mess. North did his best not to grimace, but syrup was the grossest food to exist. Quirin looked like he was going to say something, then thought better of it. “Alright, get your chores done and then head off to see Marcus. I told him you would be helping him while you were grounded. Sorry I forgot to mention it last night.”

North froze, fork hanging in mid-air over his plate. Grounded?

“It’s fine, dad,” Varian said, hurriedly taking his plate to the sink. Placing it inside, he removed what looked like a small, pink ball from his pocket and dropped that into the sink too, causing bubbles to suddenly appear.

North would have had several questions if his mind weren’t stuck on that one word. Grounded? Slowly putting his fork down, he watched blankly as Varian and Quirin chatted, something about chores, what help this Marcus was going to need, dinner. He couldn’t focus on that, mind scrambling around that one word, tugging it apart letter by letter to understand its meaning. Varian was grounded. Was it because he brought a stranger home? Was it because North wasn’t playing nice? A combination of the two?

Anger and guilt wrap around his neck, making it difficult to breathe as red tinges the edge of his vision. He focuses on his plate, glaring daggers at the remaining slices of pancake, hands curling so tightly into fists it threatens to tear the bandages. If it weren’t for Varian’s medicine, his injuries would be screaming right now. That thought just brings another wave of guilt crashing over him. If Varian really was being punished because of him, that would explain why he had clammed up after Quirin had appeared. He probably didn’t want to get into any more trouble. His teeth grind, threatening to file his fangs down flat. That wasn’t fair! Varian shouldn’t be punished for helping somebody in need, and if Quirin had a problem with North he shouldn’t be taking that out on other people, much less his son!

“North?”

He looked up in surprise, blinking rapidly as he tried to reorient himself. Varian was gone, leaving them at the table with half-finished plates. Quirin was frowning, looking him over with a pinched brow.

North wishes he could punch him and tell him what an absolute asshole he is. Did he think this was going to earn him father of the year? If Varian was being punished because of him though, getting into any more fights with Quirin, physical or verbal, could just make things worse. Which meant he was going to have to play nice. North takes a deep breath through his nose and forces his hands open, palms down on the table. “Yeah?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking as badly as it felt.

Quirin doesn’t respond for a moment, studying him as if working through a puzzle. Eventually he lets out a sigh, sitting back in his chair. “Like I said last night, you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need,” he said, “but we should probably get you to the doctor first so he can look over those burns. Plus, a check-up in general might be good for you.” North nodded, not trusting himself to speak, dropping his gaze back to the table. He finds the claw marks and traces them, absently wondering if he could tear through the wood with more force. “After, I was thinking of telling the town about you. We were supposed to have a meeting in a couple days anyway, it won’t hurt to move it up.”

That got his attention. “Why do you need to do that?” he asked.

“People are going to have questions if they see a tiefling child running around, especially if he’s staying with the village leader. It’ll be better to address them early instead of letting them run wild with their imagination,” Quirin explained, a touch exasperated. For once it didn’t sound like it was directed at him. “Besides, if you don’t want to stay with me while you recover, I would like to see who would be interested in taking you in. A lot of good people live in Old Corona, I’m sure somebody wouldn’t mind stepping forward.”

“You could just send me to the orphanage,” North said, confused on why that wasn’t an option. That was the first choice for unwanted children.

“Is that what you want?” Quirin returned. North considered, but eventually shook his head no. It was a risky assumption that it’d be easier to sneak out of an orphanage when he knew nothing about it. Besides, they always had that one snitch with a brown nose. Quirin seemed pleased with that answer, shoulders loosening up. “I’ll also need to tell them that you have magic. Corona isn’t known for mages or magical artifacts, if the townspeople see you casting spells they could become frightened.”

Yet, somehow, he knew a powerful spell that could send you anywhere in the world. Imagine that. North didn’t argue though, letting out a noise of understanding as he finished his plate. It was probably for the best, since he was so accustomed to using magic, he wouldn’t think twice about using it to chill a drink or clean something. Not like it would matter anyway.

“Which leads me to some ground rules while you’re here.” North stilled as Quirin, after moving his plate aside, set his clasped hands on the table and leaned closer. His face was set back into that stony calm mask, eyes boring holes into him as his voice dropped closer to a growl. A small shiver ran up his spine, remembering the feeling of hands pinning him to the wall, too weak to break free or defend himself. “1. Under no circumstances are you to cast any spell on a person without my, or another adults, supervision and permission. 2. You are not going to summon fire, lightning, beasts or monstrosities, anything that can pose a threat to the village. If _any_ of these rules are broken, there _will_ be consequences, do I make myself clear?”

North held his gaze, hands shaking. The only thing sparing the fork in his hand from snapping in half was that it was made of metal. Did he think North was going to attack the village the first chance he got? “Understood,” he said, spearing a piece of pancake, stubbornly avoiding the ‘yes, sir’ Quirin was looking for.

Screw this, he was leaving tonight.

“Good. Once you’re done, we’ll head down to see Doctor Teddy.”

* * *

He might have made a few miscalculations.

Walking through the streets of Corona, North keeps his gaze forward and his hands firmly at his sides, resisting the urge to cross his arms. He was tempted to step closer to Quirin, but the idea on its own was already unappealing without the worry of showing weakness. Each villager that crossed their path would send them a cursory look before doing a double-take, gawking at him in open surprise. Some were decent enough to keep moving, while others had no problem standing in the middle of the street to watch them pass. Whispers wrapped around him, low enough that he could never make out what they were saying but he had a pretty good guess.

“Old Corona doesn’t see many tieflings, does it?” he finally asked after one villager ran into a door.

Quirin sighed, but his friendly smile didn’t waver as he gave a quick greeting to each passerby. “No, the last one that came through was quite a few years ago. They won’t give you trouble though if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried,” he huffed, glaring ahead. He wasn’t, of course not. But in his haste, it _had_ slipped his mind how uncommon Tiefling’s were. In the city, while not a large population, most people would hardly bat an eye at the sight of him. There was always going to be someone who got that slack-jawed wide-eyed expression when they saw a Tiefling, but that was usually reserved for children, travelers and those that had just moved from a small town. Old Corona not seeing a Tiefling in years? Perfectly understandable.

He was still completely unprepared to have so many eyes following him. Was this going to be a thing in every place he passed through? He barely restrained himself from reacting, mouth threatening to twist into a grimace, fingers clenching to control the shiver running up his spine. All the attention had old memories resurfacing, digging their way out of his childhood to remind him of the horror stories the adults would whisper to them before bed. Of lost villages, tucked so far away from civilization that their roads had long been taken over by nature, who would drive off any “demons” that came close. Those were the friendliest ones. If you were really unlucky, the forgotten villages would remove your horns to “save” you from your damnation.

Old Corona did not feel like one such village, nobody was glaring at him like he was a monster, and the whispers didn’t seem angry. They were all just surprised. The town itself was also located near a Kingdom, so it definitely wasn’t cut off from civilization. But what about the rest of the world? An ache begins to form at the base of North’s horns as the old stories continue to bounce around his mind. The world was larger than he could fathom, made of endless paths leading from destination to destination, each full of limitless opportunity. Which meant he had no idea what to expect when he reached those destinations either. It was entirely possible he’d stumble through more villages that gawked at him like a side show freak, that he’d cross paths with the occasional asshole who couldn’t stand Tieflings.

So would it be possible to find a long forgotten path?

He was being ridiculous. Shaking his head a little, he tried to dislodge the stories and focus instead on where Quirin was leading him. Because that’s all they were, old stories to scare children and he was far too old to be fightened by them. All he was doing was working himself up over nothing and making it more difficult for himself when it inevitably came time to leave. The last thing he wanted was to be standing at the edge of the town, fretting over childish fears, until somebody decided to stop here.

“Here we are.” So lost in thought, North nearly walked past Quirin. He recovered quickly, turning to look up the plain two-story building, a hanging sign near the door with a red cross painted on it. Quirin was giving him an odd look but decided not to bother, instead opting to grab his shoulder in a tight grip. North didn’t hide his scowl. Quirin glared sternly at him, leaning over a bit so he could meet his eyes. “Now, when we get inside, they’re going to ask you questions about where your parents are,” he said, voice lowered so only they could hear. “Those are fine, but when they start to ask you about how you got your injuries, or anything that might relate to your magic, I want you to let me answer that. It will go smoother if they hear it from me, understand?”

With a roll of his shoulders, North knocked Quirin’s hand off. He really didn’t see how it mattered who they heard it from, and it was probably better if _North_ handled it since he was the mage here. He was better suited to explain magic. He _should_ be the better one, anyway. “Fine,” he said instead.

Quirin waits for any more comments, eyes narrowing with suspicion when none come, before leading him inside. North allows himself a breath of relief as the door closes behind him, now free of the watchful eyes and whispers. Looking around, he finds the waiting room to be just as plain with benches pressed against the left wall, and at the opposite side was a desk with a young man sitting at it. Said young man was draining what little life the room offered, going through some paperwork with a dead-eyed stare. When he looked up though, his face morphed from surprise to a painfully forced smile.

“Quirin!” he greeted, practically leaping to his feet. “What brings you here? It’s not Varian again is it?”

“No, no, he’s out in the fields for the day,” Quirin said, stepping further into the room with North following reluctantly behind. “I was hoping Dr. Teddy was in, I need him to have a look at my…guest.” The young man finally seemed to notice North, mouth dropping in surprise before quickly snapping shut into a close-lipped smile. North frowned back, uncomfortable. “North, this is Adam, he’s the nurse and helps Dr. Teddy run the clinic. Adam, North, he’s going to be staying with me for a while.”

“I…see,” Adam said, looking North over. This time North crossed his arms, glaring back when their eyes finally met. Whatever Adam was thinking, he shook it off and turned that false smile to Quirin. “Well, Dr. Teddy will be down in a little bit. He should have enough time for a check-up since it’s so early.” He sat down and flipped open a blue book, studying the pages for a moment before looking back up. “Yep, no appointments this early! Lucky you!” He laughed, a little too loud and short before scribbling something into the pages of the book. Grabbing some more papers, he stood up and opened the door next to his desk, “This way,” leading them into the doctor’s office.

Taking a seat on one of the beds, face scrunching up at the scratchy material of the sheets, North peered curiously around the room. It wasn’t any livelier than the previous one, but this one had flat wooden flowers nailed to the walls. His favorite so far was the sunflower, set lower to appear like it was sprouting out of the ground. Quirin took an uncomfortable looking chair next to him, grimacing as it groaned underneath him. Adam, taking the small stool, set the papers he’d carried in on a nearby table with an inkwell, looking through them briefly before turning to them.

“Now, where are the patients parents? You said earlier he was a guest?”

“I’m travelling alone,” North said, tired of being ignored when he was sitting right here. Although maybe he should have stayed quiet, he did not like Adam’s face directed at him. “Varian found me by the riverside and brought me to his house.”

North squinted, certain he’d seen an eyeroll. “Of course he did,” Adam said under his breath, writing the information down on another paper. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“And what brings you in today? Just a check-up?”

“I fell unconscious and received serious burns on my arms,” North held up his bandaged arms for emphasis, “they’re probably second-degree.”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Adam said dismissively, false smile stretching wide as his voice filled with concern, “and how did all this happen? You said you were travelling alone; did you fall in your fire pit?”

North bristled, tail lashing as he stared at the nurse in disbelief. Was he _mocking_ him? He recognized that damned tactic, acting concerned to hide the belittlement. Did this guy think his suffering was _funny?_ Did he think him too stupid to notice when he was being mocked? North barely restrained his growl, feeling the spark of magic zip between his fingers. “Actually-”

“We’d like to discuss that with Dr. Teddy first,” Quirin said, shooting North a warning look before smiling at Adam. “It’s involves a matter I can’t disclose yet but will at the meeting later today.”

Adam blinked, looking between them slowly with a confused look. He seemed to be debating pushing the subject but eventually caved with a wide smile. “Very well then,” he said, making a final note before standing up. “I’ll send Dr. Teddy in right away.”

North stared after him, waiting for the soft click of the door before turning to Quirin with a sour expression. “I don’t like him.” Quirin sighed heavily, slumping back in his chair, staring at the door with resignation. “He’s an asshole.”

That got him a sharp look. “He’s good at his job, Dr. Teddy wouldn’t have hired him without reason,” Quirin said.

North thought about commenting on how automatic that response sounded, like Quirin had memorized it by heart. Then remembered that he was supposed to be playing nice. Teeth grinding, he looked away, hands fisting the sheets as the mocking voice of Adam rings in his ears. _“Did you fall in your fire pit?”_ What a fucking asshole. North entertained the idea of summoning fire, letting it consume his hand and burning off his bandages, just to see the look on Adams face.

_“No, I’m a mage, but my spell went wrong during –”_

Hm. He didn’t really want to mention that last part, that’s no better than actually falling in a fire pit.

_“I was fighting a fire elemental and stole it’s power with my bare hands.”_

Better. North snorts in amusement as he imagines Adam scrambling back in shock, earning a curious look from Quirin. He doesn’t get the chance to ask what’s so amusing before the door is thrown open, North nearly jumping off the bed in surprise.

“Hello!” An old man in a white coat enters the room, head balding except for the white sideburns, large glasses perched on his nose and a stethoscope hanging from his neck. He falters only slightly at the sight of North but his wide smile never lessens as he looks between the two of them. “I hope you two weren’t waiting long, Adam was just informing me about the situation.”

“Not at all,” Quirin said, pushing himself up from the chair with grunt. He motioned between them. “This is Doctor Teddy. Doctor Teddy, this is North.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Dr. Teddy said, sitting on the stool, looking over the papers he’d brought with him before placing them on the table. Getting his quill ready, he turned to North with faint confusion. “Now, am I to understand that you are alone? No parents that we can contact or…”

“Yes,” North said slowly, already feeling tired of having to answer that question and whatever questions were going to follow after. Maybe he should have lied earlier, said he was going to meet them in another town. There’s no way Quirin would have gone along with it though, and it still would have led to more questions. Sighing, he resigned himself to his fate. “I don’t have any parents with me, or any family close by. I’m travelling alone.”

“But you’re only fourteen, correct?”

He nodded.

Teddy shook his head, brow creasing with concern. “That’s quite dangerous, travelling by yourself so young. Did your parents allow this?”

“No, but they’re not going to be looking for me.”

The quill froze midsentence, Dr. Teddy looking fully at him now. He seemed stumped by the declaration, looking quickly towards Quirin then back to him. “Are you sure, North?” he asked, lowering his voice to a softer tone. “I’m sure they –”

“I,” North cut in sharply, “know him better than you. He’s not coming for me.” His chest constricted painfully at the admittance, at the very real truth that became more obvious as the sun slowly passed overhead. That didn’t matter though, North didn’t care about him either. His stomach twists as he forces down the knowledge about how _easy_ it should be for Winters to find him. He doesn’t care.

“Well, ah, alright. I’m sorry to hear that,” Dr. Teddy said, stealing another glance at Quirin before clearing his throat and returning to his papers. “You are going to be staying with Quirin for the time being?”

For today. “Yes.”

“And where were you from originally?”

Quirin’s gaze prodded at the side of his face, digging for information. “Some boring place, it’s not important,” North said, keeping his eyes on Dr. Teddy as the gaze started to burn.

Dr. Teddy frowned, lips pressing briefly into a thin line. For a brief moment he looked like he was going to press, then decided against it. “I was informed that you received burns, suspected to be second degree?” he asked instead. North nodded. “How did this happen?”

“He’s a mage,” Quirin cut in, startling North. He hadn’t expected him to say it so bluntly. Dr. Teddy definitely hadn’t been expecting that answer, his eyes nearly eclipsing his glasses with how wide they were. “He was practicing a spell by the river, but it backfired on him, causing him to pass out from exhaustion and receive his injuries.” North did his best not to look at Quirin, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to hide his confusion. “Varian found him by the river and brought him home, but they didn’t look severe enough at the time to call you.”

“I see,” Dr. Teddy said slowly, frowning thoughtfully for a moment before breaking out into another smile. “Well, I’m no mage unfortunately, can you tell me if these burns are any different from normal ones? Has this happened before?”

“There’s not much difference,” North said, not waiting to see if Quirin wanted him to answer or not. “The only problem is that if I cast any spells it agitates them, but that’s normal for this kind of injury. Otherwise, they should heal over time.”

Dr. Teddy nods, jotting down the new information quickly before turning his full attention to him. “Okay, let’s take a look,” he said, holding out his hand. North didn’t move right away, curious if Dr. Teddy would attempt to grab him. He didn’t though, waiting patiently with an unwavering smile that grew when North finally extended his arm. With quick, experienced fingers he carefully began unwrapping, studying the burns intently as they were uncovered. “Now, does ointment work on these type of burns or are you going to need something special? If so, and I’ll be honest, I might have to recommend you find a doctor in the Kingdom. They’ll have better access to more uncommon medicine.”

“They’re not that bad, I got lucky,” North said, grimacing at the shiny, pale pink scars clashing against his darker red skin. Yes, lucky indeed, if he’d gotten an arcane infection he’d be screwed, left to wait for weeks without any option for relief. “Besides, Varian made this medicine that works really well, so I’ll just –”

“Wait, what?” Dr. Teddy head swiveled between them; eyes wide with growing horror. North blinked, confused as he looked over to find Quirin stiff, expression shifting slowly to embarrassed. “Quirin!” Jumping from his seat, Dr. Teddy moved surprisingly fast over to get a bowl of water and washcloth. Somehow, he made it back without spilling a drop, a scowl on his face that even for how little North had known him seemed out of place. Despite his agitated state, he was still careful not to be too rough as he started cleaning the burns. “What were you thinking? I thought I told you not to let Varian experiment with medicine or use it on anybody! That’s highly dangerous, we have no idea what effect this could have!”

The chair groaned as Quirin shifted awkwardly. “I know Teddy, but the ointment he created does work and there haven’t been any side effects,” he said, more sheepish than defensive. 

“That doesn’t mean something can’t go wrong!” Dr. Teddy snapped, hands now flying as they worked to undo the second bandages. “Honestly Quirin, I thought you of all people would know better than this.”

“Teddy.” Quirin sat up straighter, eyes boring into the doctors’ face. Doctor Teddy’s pressed his lips tightly together but didn’t look up from his work. “We can talk about this later.”

North blinked, looking between them before turning his attention down to his free hand. He flexed it experimentally, curling and uncurling his fingers, making a fist, lips pressing into a thin line as the skin pulled painfully, before carefully setting it on the bed. Despite the ache, he could still feel the sheets between his fingers, the cheap material still a little scratchy. The coloration of the scars didn’t appear any different compared to other burns, and they were still the same shade as yesterday. “I don’t understand,” he said, drawing their attention, “I’ve been using Sootha – the ointment since last night and haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. I’m not having an allergic reaction to it, nor does it seem to be agitating my injuries in any way. No itching, burning, or swelling. No change in appearance. I was still in some pain when using it but that’s not unusual when it comes to medicine. Though now that you’ve removed it it’s starting to hurt a lot worse. It doesn’t, however, completely numb my senses since I can still feel everything. So, I’m not really sure what the problem is?”

The adults stared at him, both seeming at a loss for words at the small analysis. It’s Dr. Teddy who snaps first though, clearing his throat before cleaning off the last of the ointment. “I’m sure it doesn’t bother you now,” he said gently, “but as much as I adore Varian, his experiments tend to have…” his gaze darted to Quirin, who looked away, “unintended consequences. They might not be obvious now, but they often appear at the most inconvenient times and in the most unusual ways. It’s just better for all of us if we exercise the necessary caution.” He placed the cloth down, carefully turning North’s arms to make sure he’d removed all of the ointment. “Besides, Varian is no doctor, he shouldn’t be messing with what he can’t understand.”

North frowned but didn’t press. It wasn’t like he knew enough to say Varian was qualified to make medicine, or that Sootha Burn wouldn’t _eventually_ have negative side effects. However, he couldn’t help but question whether it was a concern or not. He glanced over to Quirin, who was still looking towards the door, arms crossed and face set into an unreadable expression. His defense had been weak, but it was still a defense, one that implied they’d used it before him without any issue. If this medicine really was dangerous, then it didn’t make sense that Quirin would have allowed Varian to continue using it. He’d attacked North on the _assumption_ that he had attacked Varian! Unfair punishments aside, Quirin didn’t strike him as an abusive father who would needlessly or intentionally endanger his son. It also didn’t make sense because if they had used it previously, then _Varian_ would know it was defective and surely would have shown more resistance to using Sootha Burn. Heck, even if Quirin had known it was defective and had intentionally allowed for its use, why bring North to the doctor without telling him to keep quiet about it? Why bring him to the doctor at all?

“Now this,” North didn’t jump but his shoulders hunched in surprise, realizing he’d zoned completely out for a moment. At some point in his musing, Doctor Teddy had fetched new bandages and a small, white cannister that he was currently unscrewing. “Is your new medicine, I’m sure you’ll find it works much better. I already asked Adam to get this and some bandages ready for you to take home, and if you need any more all you have to do is come to me.” North doesn’t respond, trying to keep his face neutral despite the slimy feeling of the ointment and the odd smell that came from it. It wasn’t unusual for medicine to be unpleasant in some way, but Sootha Burn had at least been odorless. “If you feel like your injuries are getting worse, or notice anything unusual, please do come to me right away.”

“Okay.”

“Good,” Dr. Teddy said, wiping his hands off before applying the new bandages. “After this, we’ll continue with the rest of your check-up. Quirin said you were unconscious by the river; do you think you may have hit your head when you collapsed? Any headaches, blurry vision or feelings of lightheadedness?”

“No, it’s just my arms that are hurt.”

“Are you sure, what about your horns? I’ve heard they’re quite delicate.”

North stiffens. “They’re fine, but they’re not delicate just…sensitive,” he said quickly, eyeing Dr. Teddy in case he tried to touch them. Behind him, his tail swished sharply back and forth. “If they were injured, I’d know.”

If the doctor noticed his nervousness, he had no reaction to it, tying off the last of the bandages before going to get his clipboard. “That’s good,” he said cheerfully, writing down the information quickly before taking his stethoscope. “Now, I’m going to put this on your back and I’m going to need you to take deep breaths…”

* * *

North blew out a breath, glaring up at the ceiling, tail lightly smacking the seat next to him as he counted all the cracks he could find. It’d only been a few minutes, but his patience was waning with each minute ticking by, each tick becoming slower and slower as time passed. He’d been, gently, pushed out of the office after the check-up showed no other problems, leaving Quirin and Dr. Teddy to talk. About what? He’d really like to know but Adam had snapped at him to take a seat when he didn’t move right away.

“Would you stop that?”

North smacked his tail harder, ignoring the sting to instead glower at his newest enemy. Without his employer or leader around, Adam had decided to drop his mask, face now open with displeasure as they eyed each other. Muttering under his breath, Adam went back to his paperwork with a roll of his eyes. North highly doubted he was doing any work though; he did not have the appearance of somebody who cared enough to do anything but the bare minimum. If that.

Squinting at him, his tail stopped hitting the seat in order to ponder his next move. He could just ignore him, wait it out until Quirin finally came back and whisked them away to somewhere else. He was agitated though, skin prickling uncomfortably each time Adam would glare over in his direction, as if his mere existence had ruined his entire day. As if he was a bug that needed to be squashed. The feeling was far too familiar, hands clenching and unclenching as a voice told him to just lock up and ignore it, to divert his attention to something more useful instead of focusing on petty problems.

Just like back home.

He shouldn’t have had to put up with that feeling in the first place though.

Sitting on the table was a glass bowl, filled with colorful lollipops with a sign on the front that said, “Take one,” in surprisingly, pretty cursive. They might have brought a little cheer to the room if it wasn’t aggressively being stamped out with each scowl sent from behind the desk. Shifting his feet, North stood up and made his way across the room, ignoring the look he was getting and instead focusing on the bowl. If this went okay, he could get one and just go sit back down. Or…

The bowl was pulled back before his claws brushed the rim, the sign falling on the desk. “Those aren’t for you,” Adam said, glaring venomously as he tightened his hold on the bowl.

North glared back, fingers curling into fists despite his injury’s protests. “The sign doesn’t say that,” he said, holding up the piece of paper for emphasis before tossing it back on the desk. “It’s just candy, and I’m only going to take one, what’s the big deal?”

“There is no _deal_ ,” Adam spat, standing up so he could tower over North, “but _these_ ,” he placed the bowl down with a ‘clunk’, hand still gripping the rim as he leaned over to sneer down at him, “are for people that actually live here. Not lost mages looking to cause trouble.”

North began to protest only to freeze, gaping up at the other man as he recoiled in surprise. “You were eavesdropping on us?” he exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up.

Adam stood back, arms crossing as his scowl deepened. “Don’t act so high and mighty, you were going to do the same.” North flushed, jaw clenching to keep himself from sputtering indignantly. “This town is already plagued by one problem child; we don’t need another one. _Especially_ not one that’s going to be shooting fire or out of his hands.” Placing his hands on the desk, Adam leaned over to look him in the eyes, false smile in place. “Vardaros is only a week away going north. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy for _your_ company.”

“Maybe you should go,” North snapped, tails lashing as he pressed his arms tight to his sides, fists shaking, “I’m sure they won’t mind your shit bedside manners.” He has no idea what Vardaros is like but if it’s where a “problem child” goes then it obviously isn’t good. “At least there your wasted life can actually find some meaning.”

Adam’s cheeks turned red, mouth twisting as if he’d just eaten a sour candy. “Excuse –”

The door clicking was the only warning they got before Dr. Teddy and Quirin stepped out. North blinked at them, thrown off as the two men’s conversation came to close – “I’ll see you at the meeting later, Teddy” “Don’t forget the medicine and what we talked about, I’m serious Quirin” “…Right” – before turning back to Adam. To any newcomers it wouldn’t look like an argument had taken place, Adam sitting at the desk again with his blue book open, smiling mask back in place. A welcoming sight.

“North?” He turned back to find Quirin looking between the two of them, eyes narrowing for a moment before his face smoothed over. “Ready to go?”

“Uh, sure,” North said, then quickly pointed towards the bowl, “did you want a lollipop? Adam said we could each have one.”

Quirin blinked in surprise. “No thanks, get what you want.”

North turned back to find Adam staring at him with a smile frozen in place. Not breaking eye contact, he grabbed a green one. “Thanks, Adam,” he said brightly, waving goodbye with the treat before hurrying to Quirin’s side.

“It was nice to meet you North, I’d shake your hand, but” Dr. Teddy said, chuckling lightly as North offered him a wave instead. “Remember what I said, alright? Any trouble and you come straight back to me”

“Okay, thank you.”

Quirin nodded politely at them before heading out, North following closely behind. He couldn’t help the breath of relief as the door shut behind him, feeling much more at ease now that he wasn’t in a room with Adam anymore. Even as they began walking down the street, eyes following them, it couldn’t shake his brightened mood. With lollipop in hand, he felt like he’d won their little spat. “So, where to now?” he asked, working to get the wrapper off his reward.

“Did something happen with Adam?” North looked up in surprise to find Quirin staring down at him, face pinched with worry. When he continued to stare in confusion, head tilting slightly, Quirin elaborated. “His face gets red when he’s…upset about something.”

North shrugged. “I told you, he’s an asshole,” he said, smiling triumphantly as he finally removed the wrapper. Biting down on the candy with a satisfying crunch, he pretended not to notice Quirin’s horrified look. “He’s mad cause I didn’t put up with him.”

Shaking off his horror, Quirin sighed heavily. Another tick, he noted. “North…”

He scowled at the disappointed tone, taking a more aggressive bite that almost took the stick with it. “Hey, don’t get upset with me,” he snapped around the mouthful. Briefly he remembered it was rude to talk with his mouth full but decided he didn’t need to be polite now. “I’m not the one who was eavesdropping on you.”

“What?”

Quirin stopped sharply, North taking a second longer to realize he’d lost his guide. Turning, he blinked in surprise to find Quirin standing there with his mouth gaping, brow furrowing in a look of steadily building rage. Stomach dropping, North looked around uneasily, twisting the stick between his fingers. Shit, he probably shouldn’t have said anything. “Well,” he said slowly, to keep from stuttering. Remembering they were in the middle of the street, he reluctantly stepped closer and lowered his voice. “He called me out for being a mage.”

Quirin’s mouth snapped shut, twisting between a frown and grimace before he finally uttered a low, “I see.” They lapsed into silence, Quirin staring intently at him, fists clenching and unclenching. North cursed himself for not bringing his staff. If they got into a fight there was no way he stood a chance in this condition. The people were also going to be a problem, they’d no doubt jump to defend their leader at the first sign of trouble. He was a fast runner, he’d just have to – “Alright, I’ll have a talk with Teddy later about this.”

North blinked. “What?”

Quirin brought a hand up to rub his eyes before moving his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’ll see him at the meeting, so I’ll talk to Teddy about it,” he repeated, dropping his hand, and continuing down the street.

North didn’t follow right away, staring ahead with wide eyes. Snapping out of it he quickly joined Quirin again before the other could say anything. “Wait, so…you believe me, just like that?” he asked, confused.

Quirin’s mouth thinned. “I can tell when you’re lying,” he said, not looking down as North flinched back. “Adam has always been…difficult. Dr. Teddy assured me he had a handle on it, so I let them be. If he’s eavesdropping on private conversations though.”

North frowned when he didn’t finish but decided not to push, instead waiting to see where they were going. This could have been avoided in the first place if Adam had been fired the minute he proved to be a problem. If he was already so "difficult" then this really shouldn’t be surprising, good at his job or not. He wondered if he should mention their spat too. Ah, but he _was_ going to eavesdrop too, so it was probably better to keep quiet about that. Having Quirin believe him at all instead of an adult he’d known probably his whole life, even if that adult was an ass, was already pushing his luck too far.

“Hey,” he said, grimacing at the broken silence but pushing through to get answers. Damn his curiosity. “In the office, why did you…” how could he word this without revealing anything, “The reason I collapsed at the river. It wasn’t entirely true.”

Quirin blinked several times as if breaking from a trance, before beginning to take deep breaths, face slowly relaxing. “It wasn’t untrue either though,” he said after a moment, “if the people knew the real reason, they’re gossip would run several miles with it. It’s better to keep it a little vague.”

North wasn’t sure if it was better or if it was pointless. There were plenty of people that loved to gossip, to make up the most terrible things about others to make themselves feel better. He got that part. He also found himself not particularly caring what the town thought of his situation or the spells he used. If this place was unused to mages, they were going to be talking about him anyway so what’s one more log to the fire. Not like he was planning to stick around to see it burn to ash anyway. “Okay,” he said skeptically, “and where are we going now?”

Quirin held up his hand, showing the brown bag North hadn’t noticed until now. “We’re taking your medicine back to the house, so we don’t have to carry it around all day. Shouldn’t take but a couple minutes,” he said. As if on cue they reached the edge of town where North saw the house - really, it's a small castle - sitting on the hill, the massive purple wall looming over it with the sun emblazoned on the bricks, stretching further than he could see. “After, we’ll round up everybody for the meeting. _That_ will take a few hours.”

“I don’t have to be there for _that_ right?” North asked, stomach dropping at the thought of having to meet more people. There were too many ways that could go wrong, and the encounter with Adam made the idea even less appealing. If he stayed at the house though, he could get his things and leave without any trouble. Quirin frowned at him, spurring North to voice his reasoning quickly before it could be shot down. “I mean, I’m getting pretty tired, I don’t know if I’m up for hours of walking. Also, not too keen on being around when you introduce the ‘lost mage child.’”

Quirin raised an eyebrow at the name but didn’t say anything. He also didn’t immediately shoot down North’s complaints, instead rubbing his chin in thought as he looked ahead. After a couple agonizing minutes his face cleared, nodding to himself. “Alright, that’s fair,” he said, then fixed North with a stern look, “but I’m not leaving you alone at the house while you’re injured. I got a friend who won’t mind keeping an eye on you.”

North frowned, uneasy at the thought of being babysat by a stranger. That was only slightly better in that it was one person, but it was still a person that could wind up being as terrible as Adam. If it took Quirin this long to think about cracking down on a bad nurse, this other friend was probably not any better. Wait, if Quirin knew he was lying then did he suspect North was trying to run away? Well shit, that’s going to make things difficult then. He’d have to bide his time a little longer, until he had a better opportunity. “Fine,” he grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up way longer than I expected, so next part the boys finally get to hang out


	6. North: Day One, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North and Varian spend some time together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 84 years, but I've returned. This got way longer because I didn't want to split the chapter up, and then got distracted by life in general.

North had never been near a farm in his life, the closest he’d gotten to anything vaguely similar had been the gardens at ho – in the city. They’d been his favorite place, full of so many different flowers, each more colorful than the next, the air constantly carrying their scent from one side to the other. He could spend hours sitting out there, tucked under a tree or on one of the benches carefully placed in the most scenic parts, pouring through his magical studies or working on spells. Although he had to give up the latter after it nearly ended in disaster. He remembered feeling pretty confident that day, having summoned fire to rest in the palm of his hand without any trouble, small and secured. He was in control, he could make it even bigger, no problem! There was a problem though and that was him rapidly losing control of the spell the bigger he made it. Thankfully, he’d managed to toss it before it could blow up in his face. Half of the garden had not been so lucky, and if Winters hadn’t been around to create a shower of torrent rain it would have been worse. That had been a scary day, one that had almost saw the end of his schooling.

Why was he thinking about the gardens?

Scowling, he chided himself for missing something so stupid. Hell, he should have known better after that! Winters had been way more concerned about his precious flowers than the kid under his wing, fretting over what he would tell guests at the impending party! Shaking his head, North focused back on the large field stretched out before him, people already hard at work. His nose wrinkled at the smell, a heavy, earthy scent as the dirt was worked into neat rows, along with something else he couldn’t identify. Nothing like the subtle, flowery scents he’d gotten stupidly attached to.

“Marcus!”

One of the workers, a well-built older man, wearing overalls and a wide brim hat, jerked up. Seeing them, his face broke into a smile as he waved, quickly saying something to a nearby worker before making his way over. “Quirin!” he greeted, taking his hat off and wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “What can I –”

North didn’t bother to hide his exasperation when the man looked down at him in surprise, eyebrows flying to the edge of his receding hairline. He’d seen them from the field, why was he now just noticing? Did he think his horns were a trick of the light? “This is North,” Quirin said, hand settling again on his shoulder. How many times was he going to have to knock it off before Quirin got the point? “He’s going to be staying with me for a while.”

“…Oh?”

“Yes,” Quirin looked down at him, nodding towards the fence that wrapped around the field. “Why don’t you find a spot to sit down and rest, I’m going to talk to Marcus for a moment.”

North looked between them, debating if he could stubborn his way into staying. No doubt they were going to be talking about him, and he really didn’t like being out of that loop. Quirin’s eyes narrowed slightly, fingers digging just enough to get his point across. No arguments. With a roll of his shoulders he shoved the hand off and reluctantly walked to the fence, cursing quietly when the adults only started talking when he was good distance away. Well, nothing to do now but find a spot.

Looking over the area, he tried to ignore the various eyes that kept glancing over at him, quickly turning away any time he looked in their direction. A group of kids, a bit further from him, were staring openly. One in particular, a boy with puckered lips and a bruised cheek, catching his attention with how he was glaring. North pretended not to notice, though the urge to bare his fangs at fish-lips was tempting. He wasn’t feeling too keen on starting another spat, especially not with so many people nearby. Instead, he found Varian, who had paused in his work to stare in confusion between him and his father, a small frown forming. North shrugged back when their eyes met, and not knowing where else to go, took a seat on the middle rung of the fence across from Varian, arms folding carefully on the top rail with a small hiss of pain.

Varian looked away quickly, fiddling with his hoe.

North wondered if he was going to ever get the chance to talk to him again, still curious about how he created Sootha Burn especially now that he knew the local doctor didn’t approve. Maybe it was for the best if he didn’t, he wasn’t planning on sticking around anyway. Besides, if Varian was getting in trouble because of North, then it would be better for both of them if he left before more damage was done. Things may be going civilly with Quirin now, but he always got this sense that the leader was…watching. Which, he was, they had spent the earlier hours together, but it was like Quirin was expecting him to do something. Thinking back to their conversation over breakfast – that felt so long ago – and recalling the warnings about magic, he wasn’t liking the implications there. His teleportation spell may have had some unforeseen consequences, but those consequences affected him alone! He wasn’t some spell flinger that threw dangerous magic around without thought.

He stiffened as a large body appeared by his side, scowling when he realized it was only Quirin. “Marcus has agreed to watch you while I hold the town meeting,” he said as Marcus came to stand next to him with a friendly but more cautious smile. “I explained your…situation to him, so he knows what to expect.” Ah, so that’s why he was suddenly looking nervous. “After I’m done, I’ll pick you and Varian up. Until then, don’t do anything strenuous, understand? You need to let your injuries rest.” North squinted, wondering if that was a genuine concern or a low-key warning not to use magic. Quirin ignored the look, turning to Marcus. “I’m going to talk to Varian real quick, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Sure.”

North watched Quirin climb over the fence, tail flicking when he noticed that, despite his age, Quirin seemed to recover quickly with barely a wince. He wasn’t that old, but at his age knees and backs were the first to go so you’d expect the action to be a little more agitating. He continued to watch curiously after him as he talked to Varian, not missing the way blue eyes kept glancing in his direction with steadily growing frustration. What was that about?

“So.” He looked up, finding Marcus still standing next to him with his hands on his hips, that cautious smile still in place. He hesitated after getting North’s attention, gaze darting around before he took a deep breath and loosened his shoulders. “Well, this is a bit unusual, but it’s nice to meet you North, I’m Marcus! Ah, but you already knew that, right? I’d shake your hand, but…” He held up a gloved hand, covered in dirt, then gave North’s arms a pointed look.

“It’s fine.”

“Right. Are _you_ okay though? That’s a lot of bandages.”

North shrugged, then had to fight down the pained grimace from the motion. “It’s…not so bad, just some burns.”

“…Okay,” Marcus said, not looking even slightly convinced. They lapsed into an awkward silence, one North didn’t find himself caring enough to break, curious what the farmer would come up with. “Well,” Marcus faltered, the word lingering in the air before he found the rest of the sentence, “if you need anything just holler, alright? Until then, rest here, we’ll be breaking for lunch in a couple hours. Hm.” He rubbed his chin, staring off into the distance for a moment before looking down at him. “I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, so you can join me and the missus for lunch. I’ll invite Varian too, I’m sure he won’t mind. Besides, the more the merrier, my wife loves to show off her cooking.”

“Wait, that’s it?” North asked, sitting up straighter, stretching one arm out as if to indicate all the dialogue they were skipping. Marcus stared blankly back. “You’re not going to ask for more information?”

Marcus shifted from foot to foot, probably not expecting his actions to be brought into question. “Quirin already explained enough about your, ah, situation to me. I’m sure I can think up some questions for you during lunch, if you were willing to answer, but it’s not necessary if you’re uncomfortable.”

“And what about my skills? That doesn’t bother you?”

“Skill – oh!” Marcus looked around sheepishly at his outburst, relaxing when he saw nobody close enough to eavesdrop, “I admit, it’s unusual. I can’t remember the last time someone of your, uh, skillset passed through here, but believe it or not it won’t be the weirdest addition to Old Corona! I mean, we have Varian.” That was just more confusing to North as the older man chuckled, somehow managing to combine fondness and exasperation before it trailed off awkwardly. Clearing his throat, he nodded over to where Quirin was still talking to Varian. “Besides, I trust Quirin, he’s a good man. If you were really a danger to this village, he wouldn’t be leaving you with me.”

North frowned, trying to see if this was some sort of trick but Marcus was now staring intently at the field, hands twitching at his sides as he studied the other workers. “Okay,” he said, and that was all that needed to be said as Marcus, after a pause, hurried over to a group that seemed more interested in chatting than working. He stared after him, puzzling over how easily the older man had just rolled with his new task. Was Quirin really that trusted, or did Marcus just not care that much? Ugh, he shouldn’t be questioning it too much, the less people interrogating him the better. Sighing he crossed his arms back over the railing.

With Marcus back in the field he immediately started calling out orders, urging everybody to stop standing around talking and get back to work. Well, at least most of the workers didn’t look mean, aside from that one kid. If Teddy and Marcus were any indication, then maybe the rest of the town would be the same way, which would mean he might not have as much to worry about on his journey. So long as he avoided the Adams, that is. He was probably worrying about nothing earlier anyways. Those rumors about forgotten villages were just that, rumors, old stories meant to keep Tiefling children from going too far away from town. Letting out a breath, he looked over to find Quirin leaving with his shoulders tensed, and Varian standing in the middle of the field with his head ducked. North tilted his head curiously as he watched him, noting how he was much slower to get back to work.

Not knowing what to make of that interaction, he decided to push it to the back of his mind, instead carefully resting his cheek against his arms. It was not the most comfortable position, but at least the sun was warm on his back and shoulders, eyes closing as he soaked it all in. The earthy smell wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought, even nice with each steady breath. The sounds of work, the occasional shout of encouragement or instruction from Marcus, creating a white noise. He might just be too tired to care about the noise or the smell though, he hadn’t been lying to Quirin earlier about that. The exhaustion he’d felt yesterday was only half gone, steadily clawing at his aching muscles the more the day went on. Now, feeling startingly relaxed under the spring sun, the lull in activity was dragging him down, making it harder and harder to stay awake. Unfortunately, he was quickly realizing that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Though sitting on a fence in general didn’t make for a good sleeping position, he could have probably powered through despite the threat of sore muscles. The only thing keeping him from sleeping was the subconscious knowledge he’d probably fall over, and the steadily growing pain in his arms from where his head was resting. He’d thought that eventually the medicine would kick in, because Sootha Burn had been good enough to alleviate all of his pain down to a minor ache. This medicine, however, was not, his fingers curling with each burning flash of pain. Except now he’d gotten weirdly comfortable and didn’t want to move.

He allowed himself a soft whine, eyes squeezing against the pain. Though, as he fought through his sluggish thoughts, that was probably a good thing. Sleeping in the middle of a town he knew nothing about? That didn’t sound like a good idea at all, but it wasn’t like he had anything of value. Just himself. He’s pretty valuable. Also, in pain. Groaning, North forced his eyes open and lifted his head from the railing, blinking blearily as he searched for Varian. He knew Doctor Teddy had been concerned about the side effects of Sootha Burn, but he was quickly losing the ability to care if it meant he could get some actual relief.

He paused. The sun had moved further while his eyes were closed, and the fields were looking much more prepared than they had earlier, the rows having multiplied. Almost. It looked like everybody had been assigned to an area to take care of, and each one was working dutifully away. However, while Varian was still hard at work, his plot was still a way behind, only half the land filed down to rows. Rows that, if North squinted, looked a bit misshapen but that was probably just his blurry vision.

What wasn’t affected by his vision was that Varian had to pause more often than the others, hand constantly wiping sweat from his eyes.

What else didn’t escape his vision was that fish-lipped kid. The only reason North had noticed him was that he also kept pausing, but to look around the area at the other workers. When he saw whatever he was looking for, he began to inch closer to Varian, now more pretending to work. As he made his way closer, he kept his head down, swiveling it slowly back and forth in search for something.

North’s tail flicked behind him as he watched the kid, eyes narrowing when he perked up and bent down to quickly swipe something from the ground. Was that a rock? Straightening up himself, he watched intently as fish-lips looked around again, eyeing the busy adults, making his way slowly closer, before turning to Varian. His arm pulling back…

His hand shot out, magic surging down into his palm, to the tips of his fingers, then out further towards the projectile. His teeth grind as heat claws up his arms, fighting to keep his hand, and spell, steady, fingers curling as he urged the magic to wrap around the tiny thing. It just barely manages, almost slipping through the cracks before North could tighten the net, an invisible weight settling into the palm of his hand. The stone hovers inches from the middle of Varian’s unsuspecting back, held by an unseen force. There was no time to celebrate, to relish in fish-lips bewilderment, breathing harsh as his control waned.

With a snap of his wrist it flew back.

He slumped over the railing, twitching arm dangling as his other hand clawed at the wood, eyes burning as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Shit, shit, _shit,_ he really was going to have to take it easy. Pain and exhaustion crash over him, his limbs suddenly feeling much heavier as his injuries threaten to burn off his bandages. The pained cry is a pleasant distraction. Forcing himself to sit up, he wiped his eyes haphazardly so he could see better. Fish-lips is looking around wildly, slack-jawed, hand covering his quickly reddening forehead. He’d garnered a lot of attention with his wailing, many of the workers having stopped to voice their concerns. The corners of North lips were starting to curl into a self-satisfied smirk when Fish-lips suddenly scowls, jabbing his finger towards his target with a cry of: “Varian threw a rock at me!”

* * *

Varian jumped, clutching the hoe to his chest as he looked down at the finger pointed in his direction then up to Jude. His stomach twisted when he caught the brief look of smug satisfaction before it changed into a more exaggerated pained grimace. “No, that’s not true!” Varian exclaimed, looking around wildly from person to person. “I, I would never –”

Many of the approaching villagers seemed more concerned with Jude’s injury, their voices drowning out his defenses. One worker carefully removing Jude’s hand to get a better look, letting loose a thin trickle of blood that travelled down Jude’s nose. Varian mouth snapped shut with a sharp click, the world growing hazy as his vision swam and his head became lighter. He turns away, eyes squeezed tightly closed, as he forces himself to take a deep breath, focusing instead on the wooden tool in his hands and the soft ground beneath his feet.

“What’s going on?” That was Marcus, worried.

“Varian threw a rock at me!” Jude, sounding so innocent with his pained whimpering.

Around them, the crowd talked amongst themselves, voices blending together until they were indistinguishable from each other.

“It’s bleeding.”

“That could leave a mark.”

“Varian? He would never –”

“And it is Jude –”

“But remember his last –”

“Accident –”

“We should take him to Doctor –”

There’s a sharp sound, a familiar whistle, that quiets everyone down instantly. He can hear heavy footsteps approaching him, the smell of sweat becoming stronger as the person stops in front of him. “Varian,” Marcus said, voice soft as he settled a firm hand on his shoulder. Slowly he opened his eyes, a feeling of relief washing over him when he found Marcus’s stained, blue overalls blocking his view of Jude. His sweaty face, framed by the wide brim of his hat, is full of concern as he looks him over. “What happened? Did you throw a rock at Jude?”

“N-no!” he barely managed to get the words out, panic surging through his veins like a tidal wave. “I was just tending to my area when I heard him –”

“Liar!” Jude shouted somewhere behind Marcus. “It’s bad enough you used me for an experiment –”

“I didn’t use you, I offered help! That you agreed to!”

“No I didn’t, you just stole my toys for your –”

“Jude, that’s enough!” Marcus snapped sharply, turning around so suddenly they both jumped. Varian sighs in relief when he sees that someone had handed Jude a clean handkerchief to press against his wound. Hands on his hips, Marcus waited, looking between the two of them. When neither said anything, he let out a slow breath before turning to the crowd. “Now, did anybody _else_ see what happened?”

Most of the workers looked troubled as they whispered amongst themselves before confirming that they hadn’t seen anything. They’d all, like him, been minding their own business, hard at work. He didn’t feel relief though, shoulders tensing with apprehension when he sees Victoria standing in the crowd, also holding her hoe close to herself as if to create a shield. A shield that does nothing against the look Jude is sending her.

Varian may be Jude’s main target, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to branch out and torment other kids. Especially if he could get them to do things for him. He can’t exactly threaten Victoria in the middle of the crowd, but the looks he’s sneaking her makes it clear what he wants. The adults may not be jumping to Jude’s defense now, but if she, someone they considered trustworthy, sided with him? Varian’s guilt would be no question.

Victoria squirms, gaze darting between them.

Varian isn’t sure what to do either. He doesn’t want to get in trouble for something he didn’t do, but he doesn’t want to throw Victoria to the wolf either. Having dealt with Jude the most, it’s not something he would wish on any of the other kids, least of all her. He’d tried to make friends with Victoria in the past, but all he’d gotten was polite refusal after polite refusal before she’d run off to her real friends. Despite that, she never mocked him or went out of her way to harass him about his failures, nor did any of her close friends. If any kids with her did make a snide comment about him, it was Victoria who would redirect the conversation or have them go do something else away from him.

There was no avoiding this though, and there was no polite way to refuse Jude without getting bit. Victoria’s shoulders sagged, expression guilty. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Varian blinked back the tears of frustration as he looked down at his feet. It was probably for the best. They weren’t friends, but she was the nicest-not-friend he’s ever known, she didn’t deserve to face Jude’s harassment. He, at least, was used to it, so he could handle this. Maybe this would be enough to get Jude off his back for the rebouncium incident, at least for a while.

“I did.”

Varian jumped, looking up to find North standing next to him, cradling his right arm to his chest. Golden rings briefly glanced in his direction, before turning back to Marcus. “I was sitting on the fence over there,” North said, jerking his head back towards his previous spot, “when I saw that kid,” another jerk towards Jude, whose jaw was sitting on the ground, “hit a rock with his hoe. It flew up and hit him in the forehead.”

“Is that right?” Marcus asked, arms crossed over his chest as he turned to glare down at Jude.

“What?! That’s not,” Jude sputtered, face reddening quickly with rage as his eyes darted wildly from person to person. His search for support was in vain though, Victoria having looked away. Scowling, he pointed at North. “You’re seriously gong to believe this stranger, this _demon_ , over me?! Who even –”

“Jude,” Marcus stepped forward, forcing Jude’s hand down, face stern. “There is no need for name-calling like that! And lying to get Varian in trouble?” He shook his head, sighing heavily with resignation before his expression hardened. “We’re going to have a talk with your parents about this.” One hand gripping Jude’s shoulder, he turned to the other workers. “Alright, I think it’s time we all took a break and got out of this sun! Be back after lunch, please don’t make me come find you!” He turned back to Varian and North with an apologetic smile. “Varian, would you mind showing North the way to my house for lunch? Feel free to stay too, I’m sure Maria would be more than happy to make something for both of you. Tell her I’ll be there after I have a talk with Peter.”

Varian nodded, dumbstruck, as he watched the rest of the scene uncomprehendingly. Jude was being guided away, face still red, shooting furious glares over his shoulder. Marcus’s face was pulled into a deep frown, the kind he wore when he was giving a lecture, shaking Jude’s shoulder a little to get his attention. The other workers, with the scene over, were more than happy to leave, whispering amongst themselves about the latest trouble. Victoria had disappeared in the crowd.

North, still standing next to him, scowled after Jude and Marcus. “What an ass.” Turning to Varian he paused, one eyebrow raising as he shifted awkwardly. “You okay?”

Varian flushed, realizing he’d been staring at North. “Y-yeah, I’m good!” he said hurriedly. “Thank you.”

North shrugged dismissively. “Don’t mention it,” he said. They fell into an awkward silence, both shuffling their feet as they looked around the field. North suddenly blew out a breath, expression annoyed. “Should we just head to Marcus’s house or do you need to do something?”

“Oh, uh, no, let me just,” Varian quickly placed the farm tool against the fence, among the others the workers had left behind. He hesitated, only for a moment, wondering if he should just make up an excuse and offer directions instead. It’s what his dad would probably want. North had just helped him though, he could at least take him to Marcus’s house, he didn’t have to have lunch with him. Feeling a little pleased with his compromising, he turned back with a smile, motioning for North to follow. “You’re gonna love Maria’s cooking, she makes some of the best sandwiches I’ve ever had.”

* * *

_“…remember to keep your distance, alright?”_

_Varian stared incredulously up at his dad, over to North talking to Marcus, then back. “Keep my – how?” he asked, trying not to raise his voice. It was something he’d wanted to ask his dad last night, but with how tired he looked he’d thought it was better to go along with the request. Now, he was starting to wish he’d pushed more. “I know you want me to keep my distance, but how am I supposed to do that when he’s right there? Especially when he’s living with us?”_

_His dad had sighed. “Varian, I’m not saying you have to completely avoid him,” he explained slowly, making Varian feel like he’d missed an obvious part of an equation, “I’m asking you not to interact with him too much. You don’t even have to talk to him now during breaks, just go about your own business like he’s not here. **That’s** what I’m asking you.”_

_“But, why?” Varian stressed, because that was his next problem. “I don’t understand why you want me to avoid him. He hasn’t done anything wrong since he’s gotten here!”_

_“Because –” Quirin cut himself off suddenly, lowering his voice back down. “Because while he does need our help, we still don’t know anything about him. He’s a stranger, and until we know more about him I think it would be best if you kept your distance. For all we know, he could be dangerous.”_

_“…If he’s dangerous then why is he living with us?!”_

_“That’s not –”_

_“That’s what you said!”_

_“I said he **could be** not that I think he is! Look,” strong hands settle on his shoulders, expression firm as he stared intently down at Varian, the kind of look that marked the end of a conversation, “I need you to trust me, Varian. I wouldn’t let him live with us if I thought he was dangerous, especially when it comes to your safety, but that doesn’t mean I trust **him**. Please, just do this for me, alright?”_

_“…Yes sir.”_

Except he didn’t understand. Varian stole another glance at North, who was still cradling his arm to his chest, his gold eyes pinned ahead as he fought down what looked like a grimace. Looking forward quickly, Varian absently kicked a pebble ahead of them, watching it skitter off the side of the path, then stole another look at North. Nothing about him looked dangerous.

Maybe if things had gone differently, Varian would be more willing to go along with it, but every time he thinks back to that night he remembers how scared North looked. How his hands had clawed at his father’s wrists, thin gold bands darting wildly around for escape, breathing so loud and erratic it was the only thing to fill the room. The way he looked at him, wide-eyed with surprise, slowly calming as Varian urged his father to let go. Nothing about North was scary, a fact that was only growing truer with each interaction. The only thing scary about last night had been the cold expression on his father’s face and his unyielding grip.

“So, what’s up with fish-lips?”

Varian had to do a double take, suddenly torn from his brooding by the out of nowhere question and bizarre name. “Fish-who?”

“That kid who accused you earlier,” North said, giving him an odd look, “he looks like he made out with a fish.”

A snort of laughter escapes before he can stop it, “Jude?!” he asked. North nodded, and Varian couldn’t contain his incredulous giggles after that. Sure, he’d noticed how Jude lips were almost always puckered, but he’d never compared him to a fish before and now that’s it’s there he can’t stop thinking about it. “Don’t call him that to his face, you might get in trouble.” North scoffed as Varian began to calm down, shrugging his shoulders with a lingering grin. “He’s the local bully, he’s kind of got a bone to pick with everybody. Me especially after yesterday.”

“Yesterday? When you found me?”

Varian grimaced, recalling the events before he found North. “Yeah, he was pretty mad and ended up chasing me into the forest,” he explained. He’d made sure to not mention that last night, if his dad found out he might try to get involved but it was just going to make things worse. He chuckled, shooting North a small smile in an attempt to brush off the incident. “I suppose it worked out for the best though. If he hadn’t chased me, I wouldn’t have found you.”

North didn’t take the bait, a deep frown settling on his face. “Did you actually do something to piss him off, or did you just happen to make eye contact?” he asked, frown twisting into a scowl the more he talked. “Guy looks like he would pick a fight with a bush for getting in his way.”

Varian snorted, remembering how Jude had kicked and punched his way through the forest. “Well,” he hesitated, taking the moment to weight his options. On the one hand, he really wanted to talk to somebody, anybody, about rebouncium even if it hadn’t worked out for the best. On the other hand, he didn’t want this small friendship to be suddenly ground to dust because North thought he was a failure or some delusional wizard. But he **really** wanted to talk about rebouncium.

“Varian?”

They both jumped in surprise, heads whipping forward. He’d been so distracted by their conversation he hadn’t noticed them approaching a small house with a porch, settled more on the outskirts of Old Corona with a small garden set up next to it. An older woman was standing on the porch, a basket in hand with wet linen, messy hair pulled back in a bun with a bandana to cover it. She also looked surprised, though Varian wasn’t sure if it was the unexpected company or North that had caught her more off guard.

“Hi Maria,” he called, hurrying quickly over to her, hands raised to grab the basket if necessary, “do you need help with that, it looks heavy.”

Maria looked quickly between him and North, who was following more slowly, before her expression broke into a wide smile. “No dear, but thank you,” she said, setting the basket down before turning to North, “I don’t believe we met, my name is Maria.” Her brow furrowed, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek as she studied him. “Are you a new villager? I hadn’t heard anything about another family moving in.”

“No, ma’am,” North said before Varian could even begin trying to figure out which part of the explanation to start with, “I’m just passing through, but I’m staying with Varian and Quirin for the time being.”

Maria hummed softly when North didn’t continue, giving him one more once over, eyeing the bandages in particular, before turning to Varian. “It’s true,” he said quickly, “you can ask Marcus when he gets here, he invited us over for lunch but had to take care of something first.” Varian trailed off, worrying his bottom lip, unsure if he should mention North having magic or how Marcus was supposed to be keeping an eye on him. He didn’t think Maria would be freaked out over it, but he’d also never seen a real mage pass through here before so who knows how any of the villagers would take the news.

“Something, huh?” Maria asked, tapping her cheek as she peered thoughtfully at them before smiling playfully. “I must be getting old; I don’t remember anybody named Something.” Varian chuckled politely, hoping if he drew it out long enough, he wouldn’t have to explain.

“It was Jude,” North jumped in, making Varian flinch. He tried to shoot North a subtle look to stop, but the other wasn’t paying any attention to him. “He caused some trouble, so Marcus had to go talk to his parents.”

Varian almost sagged with relief when he wasn’t mentioned. Maria sighed heavily, shaking her head slowly. “Of course, well,” with a grunt she leaned down and grabbed the basket, hefting it onto her hip as she nodded towards the door. “You boys head inside and get cleaned up; I’ll be there shortly to get us some lunch.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Varian tried again, eyeing the basket with concern.

“Oh, it won’t take me long at all, but thank you,” Maria said dismissively, before giving them a sterner expression, “inside now. And make sure to get under your fingernails.” When she turned back to North, her face softened greatly. “If you need any new bandages, I’m sure I have some somewhere, just let me know, okay?”

“Oh,” North’s wide eyes glanced between them, lost, “thank you?” Maria nodded back, heading quickly towards the drying line. North stared after her before turning to Varian with a furrowed brow. “Is it normal for random kids to just show up here? I’m pretty sure she should have had more questions.”

Varian couldn’t help but chuckle at the exasperation in the others voice. “Maria and Marcus aren’t really ones to pry,” he explained, holding the door open so North could go first. He didn’t move though, beginning to cross his arms only to quickly drop them next to his sides. Varian tilted his head, shrugging his shoulders helplessly when North continued to look unconvinced. “If it makes you feel better, it’s not uncommon for them to invite people over for lunch. I’ve been over a couple times before.”

North stared at him for another second before making an odd noise at the back of his throat, finally walking past him into the house. Varian quickly shut the door and lead him down the hall towards the bathroom. “Thanks, by the way,” he said, looking over his shoulder to see North’s confused expression, “for not mentioning me when you were talking about Jude. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“I don’t see why,” North said, focusing on the pictures they passed in the hall, “not your fault he’s an ass.” Varian shrugged. He supposed North had a point, but he never liked getting into spats with Jude or the attention it would bring. Especially because Jude was always adamant about spinning the situation to make himself look better, with various levels of success. Even if villagers knew Jude was the troublemaker, they usually lumped him into the same boat as the instigator. “By the way, you never told me why he was chasing you yesterday.”

It took all of Varian’s self-restraint to not slam his head against the bathroom door, struck suddenly by his initial plan. Right, he was supposed to _leave_ after escorting North. Not stay for lunch. “I’ll,” well, he was here now, and he’d feel pretty bad ditching North at this point, especially if Maria did decide to do some prying. A random kid turning up raised a lot of questions, even from the politest of people. He just hoped his dad wouldn’t be too mad about it. “I’ll tell you during lunch.”

* * *

Turns out, he shouldn’t have worried about North at all. Maria hadn’t done a lot of prying as she was making lunch, just a couple questions about where his parents were and what brought him to Old Corona, and North had answered them all with ease. A bit exasperated, like he’d said it before, but otherwise he didn’t look bothered by any of them. The answers had been a little surprising, as Varian hadn’t been able to get any information from his dad earlier. He wondered if North liked travelling alone, or if it ever got lonely. As nice as it was though, it was also frustrating. All that time cleaning up he’d spent worrying about what kind of questions Maria would ask, if North would be comfortable, whether or not they should bring up the magic part. All for nothing. Now they were seated out on the porch, a gentle breeze brushing past them as they ate, doing the exact opposite of what his dad wanted.

At least he was finally about to talk to somebody about rebouncium.

“Why didn’t you just fix the ball?” Varian stopped listing theories for why rebouncium had gone crazy to stare at North in confusion. North blinked back, head tilting slightly, half eaten sandwich in his hands. “You sound like you know what you’re doing, couldn’t you just fix the toy and leave it at that?”

“Well, yeah, but that wouldn’t have been as interesting!” Varian reasoned. “Anybody can fix a toy, or buy a new one, but I _improved_ it.” North lowered his sandwich to give him a pointed stare. Varian tried to hold it but ended up looking away as he relented, “At the time, anyway.” Picking up his own sandwich, while trying not to get any mustard on his hands, he shrugged sheepishly. “That, and I might have come up with it in the moment and it was too good to pass up. Besides, if it had worked, think of what I could have achieved!” He threw his arm out as if to gesture towards all the possibilities, only to withdraw as fast as possible to keep his sandwich together. North began to laugh but quickly took another bite to muffle it when Varian shot him a look. Rolling his eyes, he repaired his lopsided lunch as he continued. “Say you’re travelling down the road, when suddenly you get jumped by a gang of bandits! You try to outrun them but, oh no, a river is directly in your path and there’s no way to cross it! You’re trapped, doomed to lose all your coin, and possibly your _life_!” His hand flew up to his throat, eyes crossing as he fake gagged. He glances over, relaxing when he sees North simply watching him with an amused smile, not one shred of annoyance in those golden bands as he waits patiently for Varian to continue. “Luckily you have rebouncium, created by the most powerful alchemist to grace this world, and with one spray to your shoes, you find yourself flying across the river right to the other side. Smooth sailing, and with everything of value still in your pockets.”

North is quiet for a long moment. “That’s a very specific situation.”

“I’m sure it could have other uses,” Varian said, “like maybe you need to get on the roof to retrieve something, but you don’t have a ladder.”

“You could probably use it for travel too,” North said slowly as he mulled over the idea, “since it sounds like it can increase the speed, you might be able to get to places faster.”

“And it could be a workout!” Varian exclaimed. “Bouncing around everywhere would help build muscles, especially in your legs!”

“I would imagine so,” North said, “although right now it sounds like it would send you hurtling at breakneck speed into the nearest tree.”

“…Yeah.”

“Actually, it reminds me of a spell I read about. Jump.”

Varian stared. “…Jump?”

“It does exactly what it says, it lets you jump farther and higher. I heard one guy was able to go fifty feet before he crashed into something.”

“…You’re messing with me, there’s no way that’s its actual name. It’s gotta have another translation from a different language, or a more complicated name. It can’t be Jump.”

“Hey,” North jabbed a finger at him, “you’ve got all that with your alchemy and science. Magic doesn’t need any of that, _we_ get straight to the point.”

“Yeah, but _Jump?_ That’s so lame!”

North held up his hands in defense, grinning. “I didn’t come up with the name,” he said, watching in amusement as Varian squinted at him in disbelief. “But it is considered a pretty lame spell, so most people don’t learn it.” He paused for a second. “Although, after this, I guess you _could_ also use it to travel faster, but it’d be pretty annoying to waste all your energy keeping that spell going. Until you run into something, hard to say if you’d be getting back up.”

“Did you ever learn it?” Varian asked curiously.

North scoffed, waving the idea away. “No way. Like I said, it’s the lamest spell you can learn, no sane mage would be caught using that.”

“Are you joking?! Being able to travel fifty feet in a single leap sounds _amazing_!” Varian defended, not noticing the look of confusion as he imagined the feats he could accomplish with such a spell. “Besides, it’s magic, so couldn’t you modify it to being able to go even _further_ or jump higher? If you get stuck at the bottom of a ravine, you could just jump your way out! You said it takes a lot of energy, but there’s probably a way to improve its durability! Oh, and maybe a way to create some sort of protection, in case you run into something!”

Varian stopped, finally noticing the wide-eyed stare directed at him. “Improve it?” North echoed. He nodded slowly, watching with apprehension as the look of confusion slowly morphed into a deep frown. Suddenly he was back in the past, frozen in place as golden eyes studied him intently, only able to breath normally when they looked forward. “I guess you could, if you really wanted to. Once a spell is done it’s just, done. Why waste time improving something that’s not broken,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes suddenly, “especially something as useless as Jump.”

“But,” Varian said, feeling heat clawing at his cheeks when North turned to glare at him, the annoyance clear on his face. He could be quiet, could agree and let it drop. “But isn’t it amazing that it can be improved at all! Yeah, it’s finished, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something else to discover with it! Maybe it’s not the most useful spell in the history of spells, but it can’t be completely useless either, right?”

They stared at each other for a moment, Varian trying desperately not to look away from North’s narrowed eyes. At the back of his mind he couldn’t help but compare him to other villagers that had given him the same look anytime he went off on a tangent about his inventions, annoyed that he wasn’t satisfied with their village life. ‘Why can’t you be happy with what you have?’ some had asked. The sandwich was now sitting like a rock, threatening to climb out of his stomach if this staring contest kept up. He’d finally found somebody willing to listen, with full attention and genuine questions, and now he was chasing them off.

North’s heavy sigh cut through the tension, letting it be blown away in the wind as he turned away. “I don’t know,” he said slowly, flicking the final piece of his sandwich away. He was still frowning, gaze fixed on the ground. “It’s not how I was taught magic. Using my time on something like that would have gotten me lectured about focusing on something more useful.”

Varian frowned, tilting his head slightly as he thought over that comment. Was North a student or an apprentice to another mage? “I know what you mean, I think,” he said, choosing to focus on their original topic, at least today. North peered cautiously at him from the corner of his eye. “My dad, the villagers, they aren’t always happy with my inventions either. They don’t see anything wrong with how things are now, so they don’t understand how my inventions could be useful. Even when I tried to explain that it was to make things easier, some got upset because they thought I meant they weren’t working hard enough.” He grimaced, thinking about past arguments and failures. “It doesn’t help when my inventions tend to have a few, eh, problems and break down.”

“Like Rebouncium.”

Varian sighed at the reminder. “Yeah, like rebouncium,” he said, grimacing. “Peter and Jude are gonna have a field day with that one.”

“Peter?” North asked, turning to him now in confusion.

Varian blinked back, thinking over their conversation before smacking himself in the forehead. “Right, we got distracted,” he muttered before explaining, “when Jude was ‘attacked’ the ball ended up smashing through the window of his house and, uh, didn’t stop. It broke quite a bit of furniture, and Peter went to my dad to complain about the death ball.” He shuddered, just the idea of Peter making his skin crawl. “Glad I wasn’t around for that, he really doesn’t like me.”

North’s brow furrowed, eyes flitting around before focusing back on him then darting off again. Suddenly he straightened. “Wait, is that why you’re grounded?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Varian said slowly, confused at the look of surprise. “Why?”

“I thought,” North stopped briefly, tail smacking the porch as he looked away before turning back to him, “I thought you were in trouble for bringing me home.”

“Weeeell,” Varian faltered, considering how best to explain, “I mean, dad wasn’t _happy_ that I brought you home. He said it would have been best to take you straight to the doctor. But, no, that wasn’t why he grounded me.” He raised an eyebrow at North. “Is that what you thought?”

“I didn’t know you destroyed a house,” North said defensively, pointedly not looking in his direction though Varian swears he sees a flash of embarrassment.

“ _Technically_ , that wasn’t my fault, it was Rebouncium that had an unfortunate break down.”

“Hey boys!”

Both looked up in surprise to find Marcus heading their way, smile stretched wide as he looked between them. “Did you two get lunch?” He nodded in satisfaction when they confirmed they had. “Great, I’ll just grab a quick bite and then we’ll head back to the fields. We still have a lot of daylight to burn.” He didn’t wait for their response, hurrying into the house after stomping his boots on the porch a couple times. They could faintly hear him calling to Maria, her response loud but muffled from further inside the house.

“He seems stressed,” North noted.

“Really?” Varian asked, thinking back over Marcus’s quick conversation. He couldn’t really see it. North didn’t elaborate either, humming softly in confirmation as he peered curiously at the house. Varian considered asking, wondering what the other had seen, but his mind kept going back to their previous conversation. “Hey, North.” He hesitated when he got the others attention, worrying briefly that he might not be able to get his thoughts across properly. “You know, when I created Rebouncium I didn’t think it was going to be groundbreaking. Sure, it’d be cool if it worked perfectly and I _know_ it has to have some use, but I also thought it up on the fly and went with it because I thought it would be fun.” He chuckled, feeling a touch embarrassed at admitting to something so childish. As much as the villagers complained about his most useful inventions, they were just as critical of ones that had no strong purpose.

“Fun,” North repeated, brow furrowing in deep thought as he studied him. This time his gaze was not as intense, still searching but not stealing Varian’s breath away. “You actually have fun inventing, even when it fails?”

“Yeah? Well, okay it’s not _fun_ when they don’t turn out like I thought or when I get in trouble,” Varian explained, wincing at the bad memories before breaking into a wide, smile at the good ones, “but I love coming up with new ideas and finding ways that could improve Old Corona! It’s like, it’s like figuring out the solution to a problem nobody knew about! And even if they fail, that just gives me more reason to work and improve them!” North didn’t look convinced, head tilting to one side as he mulled over Varian’s words. “What about you and magic? Isn’t it fun, learning new spells and studying different types of magic?” He paused, that question bringing on a slew of others. “Are there different types of magic?”

North straightened, looking completely thrown by the questions. He opened his mouth several times but no words came out, finally snapping his mouth shut as he turned his gaze downward. Varian bit his lip, not sure why he was reacting like this. He didn’t see what was so wrong with the questions, but North had been acting weird – was this weird for him? – ever since the conversation turned to magic. Maybe he was overstepping somehow, or did he think Varian was an idiot for not knowing different types of magic?

“How did you create Sootha Burn?” Varian stared blankly at North, not expecting the sudden topic change. North’s face had smoothed out, as if he hadn’t ever been troubled to begin with. “I wanted to ask you earlier but forgot.”

Varian hesitated, having hoped to steer the conversation towards magic and ask North more questions. Something about his expression made it feel like he’d be bashing his head against the wall though. Restraining a sigh of disappointment, he began to explain the process of how he created the medicine, starting with how he came up with the idea. The day he burned his hand on the stove. It was a conversation that followed them back to the fields with Marcus, something they eagerly picked back up when the final break was called.

Quietly, Varian hoped North would stick around for a little longer. There was so much about alchemy he wanted to talk about, and he finally had somebody willing to listen to him.

* * *

Quirin stared sternly down at the two boys, arms crossed over his chest. Varian looked rightly nervous, rubbing his arm and refusing to meet his eye directly. If he did, he was quick to find something else to focus on. North, standing far too close to Varian in his opinion, glared stubbornly back at him, lips twitching as they threatened to curl into a sneer. They’d been chatting lively off to the side of the finished field, Varian’s hands darting through the air as he went on about something, while North listened attentively. Upon seeing him they immediately stopped, both tensing but with widely different expressions. He should be angrier, more frustrated, but he wasn’t surprised in the slightest to find his concerns brushed off, leaving disappointment to sit heavily in his chest. He’d been ready to storm over there, to put some distance between them, when Marcus had rushed to his side, looking exhausted from the hard days work.

Not just from work, he realized as his friend explained what had happened with Jude, looking to age twenty years as he went on to describe his conversation with Peter. Quirin closed his eyes and sighed heavily, wondering if the other man was going to come banging on his door later demanding an explanation or if he was going to keep to himself for once. It sounded like he’d blown all his steam out on Marcus, to the farmers misfortune.

Now, standing in front of the boys, he found himself feeling trapped. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate North standing up for Varian, especially against someone like Jude. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Varian to finally have somebody his own age to talk to.

He just.

He just wasn’t sure he wanted that person to be _North_.

The small glimmer of relief was outweighed by the memories of magic sparking angrily in clawed hands, the feeling of unease growing under the present golden eyes glaring at him.

Sighing heavily, he dropped his arms and let his shoulders fall, trying to will the tension away. “Let’s go get dinner.”

Varian blinked owlishly up at him but was quick to follow as Quirin lead the way back home. A third pair of footsteps came a moment later, slower before quickening to be closer. “How’d, uh, how’d the meeting go?” Varian asked hesitantly, stealing glances up at him.

“Fine,” Quirin said, too tired and weary to hold conversation.

“So, they’re not going to get the pitchforks and chase me out of the village?” North asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“No,” Quirin said, barely able to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Actually they said ‘Welcome to Old Corona.’” North stared back skeptically, eyes rolling in disbelief for good measure. Quirin’s eye twitched. “There’s even a few who’d be willing to take you in, if you were interested. Willow, the local blacksmith, has an open room and was more than happy to offer it.” She had enough patience to weather whatever barking North started, but the worry about his magical bite still sat heavily in Quirin’s mind.

“Good to know, thanks.”

Quirin blinked, looking down in surprise at the lack of sarcasm or bite, the words sounding almost genuine. It was ruined a little by North glaring stubbornly off to the side, like he couldn’t believe he’d said it either. He studied him for a moment, before turning to look ahead and put the small conversation behind them. He wasn’t entirely sure where this was going, he just hoped it wouldn’t be something he regretted.

“So,” Varian said loudly, shattering the silence as he looked awkwardly between them, “what are we going to have for dinner?”

* * *

Dinner had been uneventful.

North didn’t know what to make of that.

He’d expected to feel tenser, more annoyed or frustrated, maybe for an argument to break out even. Things had been quiet though. Sadly, him and Varian didn’t get to continue their conversation on different types of medicine and how they were created. A fact that left him feeling oddly disappointed and frustrated. However, Quirin also wasn’t taking time to glare him down from across the table. In fact, he seemed oddly relaxed. Or maybe he was too tired to be wary, but that didn’t seem right. So the peaceful dinner was actually peaceful, letting him retreat to the guest room without feeling like he wanted to hit something.

Now he stared contemplatively at the window, backpack ready on the bed.

It wouldn’t be hard to leave. Open the window, pick a direction and go. He was exhausted, arms still aching thanks to the weak medicine, but going under the cover of night was the perfect opportunity. Quirin, and the other humans, didn’t have darkvision after all, and wouldn’t be able to travel through the dark forests as easily as he could. That was assuming Quirin came after him anyway, North was sure he would be more than happy to wake up and find him gone. Maybe he would even cover his tracks so nobody could follow him.

Varian would probably be unhappy.

That thought, among others, gave him pause.

Varian seemed to like talking to him, and North couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual conversation with somebody that didn’t devolve into passive aggressive comments and thinly veiled gloating. Not that Varian didn’t gloat, he definitely did, chest puffing up so much he looked like a bird trying to show off for a mate, but it didn’t make North’s teeth grind like the others. Maybe because, as much as Varian appeared to pride himself on his own intelligence, he seemed genuinely interested in North’s own thoughts and opinions. Never once did he scoff at a question, or roll his eyes at a suggestion, he welcomed all of it with an openness that had North feeling off-kilter but in a good way? He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it, but it was something he knew he liked.

Aside from that, he was fucking exhausted and the idea of running through the forest sounded like a nightmare right now.

He still couldn’t use his magic either, so trying to cut the distance that way was off the table.

Then there was the fact that Quirin didn’t seem like a _complete_ dick.

So far.

He might not have grounded Varian because of North, but North still didn’t like the guy.

Sighing heavily, North raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath of annoyance before throwing open his pack. He supposed today hadn’t been a bad day, and in his condition there was no point in leaving right now. Still, he swore to himself that the minute he could use magic without hurting himself he would be gone. No excuses.

North stills, all thoughts screeching to a halt to stare at the necklace clutched in his hand, blinking rapidly as he tried to comprehend its existence. The small pink stone, with silver coiled around it, glows faintly in the dark room. “How did,” he murmured, wracking his memories as he digs through his pack to find its matching half, a similar glow coming from it. Right, in his rush to pack he’d grabbed both, no thought or consideration about the decision. Was it because he’d put so much work into them? Turning the stone over in his hand, North pursed his lips into a thin line as he studied it. The enchantment was weaker but could probably last for a few more days before it faded away, leaving nothing but two pretty necklaces. Useful only in how much they'd get him at the nearest jeweler. There wasn't a point to continuing its enchantment. North wasn’t a student anymore, and it’d be a waste of his time and resources. He wasn't even sure if it'd work. 

His and Varian’s earlier conversations suddenly resurfaces, about how Varian still liked to invent even if that invention wasn’t something groundbreaking. How improving a spell as useless as Jump could be worth the effort. Because solving a problem, even a tiny one, that nobody knew about, was _fun_ , was exciting, to him even if he was unsuccessful in solving it the first time. It just meant he had something to improve on.

_“Isn’t it fun, learning new spells and different types of magic?”_

North grits his teeth, the corner of his eyes burning as he shoves the necklace as far down as he can before changing into his pajamas just as quickly. In bed, he stares stubbornly at the ceiling, blinking hard until the burning stops and he’s left with his bitterness.

It was _supposed_ to be fun, instead it’d just left him feeling downtrodden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUMP is a 1st level spell in DnD that is cast through touch, tripling the characters jumping distance for the duration of one minute.
> 
> However, casting this at a higher level, such as an 8th level spell, will see no increase in power or duration. It's one of those spells you might not find a lot of use for, except in certain cases
> 
> As a fun note, Rebouncium, which I might have based a little on Flubber without realizing it initially, was thought up on the spot and I ended up keeping. Looking back on it, while I'm not sure this is something Varian would create normally, I still find the idea rather interesting.


	7. Book Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varian and North talk about Flynn Rider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the tags so hopefully they look a bit cleaner. Still unsure if I should tag this in the Dungeons and Dragons fandom, since it's more me borrowing their magic and one of their races but at the same times it's still DnD so. Idk, still getting used to this.

The cover of the book is worn, torn and frayed a bit at the edges. The picture – an old, large, unseeming chest, lid cracked just the right amount to glimpse the glittering gold and jewels within, two glowing red gems giving the appearance of eyes staring out, sat at the bottom of an ocean as a large shadow passed overhead – had faded, its once bright colors muted by time and use. Turning it in his hands, he can see that the pages are just as worn, a twinge of annoyance smacking him when he noticed all the corners ruined by dog ears. Going back to the cover, North tilts his head curiously as he scans the title. “The Tales of Flynnigan Rider: The Eyes of the Storm,” he read thoughtfully.

“I can’t believe you haven’t read this!” Varian exclaimed next to him on the couch, sounding more excited than incredulous as he watched North flip absently through the pages. “It’s the most popular series in the, like, entire world!”

North shrugged. “I was busy.”

“Too busy to read something good?”

“I had _plenty_ of good books to read,” North said, huffing a little at the question. Closing the book, he stared down at the cover, pushing down the bitterness swelling up his throat. “I just…didn’t really take an interest in this type is all. Wasn’t really my style.”

“Oh,” Varian said, deflating at the admission but quickly shaking it off, “so what’s books do you like?”

North didn’t answer right away, staring hard at the cover as he went through several titles. “There was this one book series, by Skylar Wright,” he started hesitantly, forcing himself to meet Varian’s eyes. “It’s sort of an autobiography, where she studies various wildlife and plants from other countries. Makes notes of the strange habits of fauna, the properties of certain flowers, her encounters with any magical creatures. Actually,” North couldn’t help but perk up as he continued, remembering a particular set he’d read, “there were a couple where she went out to sea! Those were the best, because it’s where she learned how to chart the stars and navigate the oceans, she’s always trying to learn something new wherever she goes even if it’s the smallest thing! Oh, in one book, she spent the whole time studying these creatures she calls blue whales, that are practically as big as a ship and, ah.” North faltered, realizing that Varian was staring at him, blue eyes focused completely on his face. He felt exposed, too aware of how much and how fast he was talking, how he’d started to gesture. “They were cool,” he finished lamely.

“It sounds cool!” Varian agreed, not noticing the way North stared critically at him. “I’ve always heard stories about sea creature that could take out ships in a single blow, but I’ve never heard about someone who _studies_ them.”

“It’s a bit easier for Wright,” North said slowly, “she’s a mage, so certain hurdles she doesn’t have to worry about. The real problem is finding a crew to work with, most don’t want to waste time chasing animals unless they’re hunting.” He hesitated for a split second, before forcing out, as naturally as he could, “It’s a pretty good blend of adventure and science, so you’d probably like it.”

“I bet! I don’t think I’ve seen any of her books around here though, maybe the Kingdom could have them? They usually have a wider selection.” North hummed in acknowledgement, shoulders easing at the look of genuine interest, turning his attention back down to the cover. A small twinge of regret tugged at his chest. He hadn’t grabbed any books before he’d left. Not that there were many he’d have taken anyway, but Wright’s had been one of the few he could genuinely enjoy. “If you’re not interested, I can try to find something else.” North looked up, blinking away his thoughts to see Varian trying, poorly, to hide his disappointment. “I do have some books about plants, mostly farming, if that works for you? Plus a few on alchemy.”

Uneasiness settles at the center of his chest, squeezing harder when he stubbornly said, “It’s fine, I’ll read this.”

“Really?!” North leaned back at the loud exclamation, nodding slowly. Varian was practically vibrating with excitement, and before North could blink he’d grabbed the book. “Well, since you haven’t read _anything_ about Flynn Rider, it’s only right we start from the beginning. Just give me one minute!”

“But I thought they didn’t have an order!” North exclaimed, twisting to watch over the couch as Varian ran up the steps.

Varian called back, voice drifting the further he got away, “They don’t but you have to read the first one first!”

North sighed, slumping back against the couch. Without Varian there, and with nothing to focus on, his mind couldn’t help wandering down old memories. He smiled, thinking of him and the other children trying to read one of Flynnigan Riders books between them. He couldn’t remember who had brought it, but they’d all been excited to finally see what made it so popular. It hadn’t ended well, as different groups kept taking the book from its hiding place and stashing it somewhere else, so everybody was stuck on different parts and trying to steal it away. It’d ended in a huge fight, the book destroyed, and the adults scolding them for reading such material. _Too young,_ _not appropriate,_ they’d been told.

Then.

_The library was huge. Larger than any building he’d ever been in or seen, with shelves of books that touched the ceiling. He’d stood at the center of it, turning to stare in awe at the row’s knowledge and stories, overwhelmed when he realized there was a **second story** yet to be seen. There was no time to waste, hurrying down the nearest aisle as silently but quickly as possible, he searched. He didn’t know what he was looking for, there were too many options to choose from and before he’d realized it he’d gathered a pile of books. He staggered slightly as he walked, the tower swaying dangerously before settling, letting out a shaky breath of relief. Maybe it was time to head back._

_It was hard to say how the book caught his eye, maybe it was the redness of the cover, a sharp contrast to the more muted colors around it. Perhaps the vaguely familiar golden swirl of text on the spine. Maybe the name itself, “Flynnigan Rider,” that made him miss his old friends. Whatever had caught his attention, he was trapped, the tower collapsing as he practically dropped it next to the shelf before grabbing the red book. Turning it over, he found a man in dark armor standing high on some rubble – the ruins of a building? – with an eerily glowing sword in hand, the storm casting dark shadows as lightning struck in the background. “The Corrupt Knight” sat beneath the portrait, the letters looking carved into the cover._

_“Did you find something?”_

_He jumped, looking up in surprise to find Winters towering over him. For a moment he couldn’t talk, frozen under the critical stare of his mentor until it moved to the book in his hand. “It’s the Adventures of Flynnigan Rider!” he said, grinning to push away the uncomfortable feeling. “I hear it’s supposed to be the best adventure series! My friends and I, we used to –”_

_“And what of these?” Winters asked, motioning towards the pile next to North’s feet._

_He flushed, embarrassed as he quickly gathered his mess up into a tower, listing off the books titles as he organized them. Slowly, though, his voice got quieter with each one as Winters eyes narrowed. Once they were stacked, he stood nervously next to them, holding Flynnigan Rider close to his chest._

_“This is what you’ve been doing this whole time?” Winters asked, mouth twisting into a deep frown as disappointment clouded his face. He didn’t get the chance to answer as Winters sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I **told** you that we were to pick up material for you to study. Theories, histories, autobiographies! There’s an entire section dedicated to the magical community, have you even stepped foot there?” He ducked his head, arms tightening around the book as his tail curled around his leg. “No, you haven’t. Or perhaps you’re not really interested in learning magic?”_

_“I am!” he exclaimed; mouth snapping shut immediately as if that would lower the volume of his cry. Taking a shaky breath, he forced himself to meet Winters eye. He looked away immediately from the intense stare. “I just, I’ve never seen so many books before. I got excited and all of these look interesting, I, I just. I promise I’ll get something to study, I will!” He grimaced when no answer came, fear making his stomach coil into a knot. “I’m sorry.”_

_Winters sighed heavily, calling his name to get his attention. Looking up, he found Winter’s expression had eased, still stern but far less harsh. “I understand how easy it is to get distracted when you’re young. Everything seems so new, so amazing,” he said with a small smile before it quickly returned to his natural frown, “but all of it is, just that, a distraction. And this, especially,” he plucked Flynnigan Rider from his grasp, holding it up with open disdain, “is nothing but garbage.”_

_The book hitting the ground was loudest sound in the library. He stared at it until a hand landed on his shoulder, fingers digging until he looked up._

_“ **Listen** to me,” Winters urged, voice low but startingly loud, forcing North to pay attention. “You are my student. And as my student you must learn how to block out any and all distractions, to focus solely on your studies. That is the only way you will become powerful. All of this,” his free hand swept out towards the tower of books, “is temporary. It will satisfy you in the moment but will do **nothing** for your future. Your time here is the most precious thing on Earth, we can not afford to waste it on meaningless drivel.” He took a slow breath, the hard lines around his face easing into a softer expression. “I see so much potential in you. I **know** you have what it takes to make your mark on this world and become something great. To become somebody that everyone will remember. But,” his face shifted back to its naturally stern frown, “you must focus on what is most important. Do you understand?”_

_“Yes,” he said, before straightening up and meeting Winters gaze with determination. “Yes, I understand! I’m sorry I got distracted!”_

_“It will be alright, now that you know,” Winters said, dropping his hand so he could clasp his hands behind his back. He looked down at the pile. “First things first, take all of these and put them back.”_

_North gaped. “But I don’t know where they go!”_

_“Well, we know where this one goes, don’t we?” Winters asked, nudging Flynnigan Rider with his foot. He turned his attention back to the pile. “As for these, you’re smart, I’m sure you can figure it out. Once that’s done, come find me at the second story study and we’ll get you something more appropriate.” He began to walk away, pausing at the end of the aisle to look critically over his shoulder. “You would do well to hurry though. If the library closes and we leave with nothing, I will be sorely disappointed.”_

_Winters left._

_Not wasting time, he snatched Flynnigan Rider from the floor, not sparing it a single glance as he shoved it roughly back onto the shelve. Gathering the rest of the books, cursing softly when he dropped some, he carried the tower back the way he’d gone, desperately eyeing the shelves for open spots._

North almost hit the ceiling, thrown back into the present as Varian suddenly appeared next to him. “Holy shit,” he gasped, hand over his pounding heart, “I think you almost killed me.”

Varian laughed. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. North didn’t have the chance to be annoyed as a red book was shoved into his hands. “This is the first book, and the first book I read! It’s pretty simple compared to some of the newer stuff, but it’s still a classic! Also my favorite! Adventure, sword fights, a dashing hero up against an unrelenting villain!” He jumped onto the coffee table, acting out an in invisible sword fight with said villain. “It’s amazing, I can’t wait for you to read it! You’ll love Flynn Rider, he is the best, there’s this one part, well, I won’t spoil it, but –”

North stared up at Varian in fascination as the other babbled excitedly, trying desperately not to spoil the book as he gestured and acted out fights. He looked so happy; expression so bright it could replace the sun itself. Curiously, he looked down to read the cover.

The Corrupt Knight.

Its stupid. The way his chest suddenly tightens as the memory knocks the wind from his lungs, Winters disappointed expression crystal clear as his sharp eyes glared down at him. The first book hadn’t bothered him as much, but this one, this one. There hadn’t been anything from Winters the whole week: no contact, no appearance, no sign that he was watching. North was convinced, even more than before, that he was never coming after him. Yet now, now he can’t help the growing fear that Winters _is_ watching him, testing, judging from afar. Was watching him waste all his time on a farm and this was the final nail that would determine if North was worth chasing after. _Its stupid, it doesn’t make sense, but North’s vision is swimming as his heart pounds loudly in his ears. He shouldn’t be wasting his time –_

“North?”

Head jerking up, he stared up at Varian through blurry vision to see him standing still on the coffee table. Blinking hard, he wiped the tears on the back of his hand, already feeling his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Varian also looked unsure; shoulders taught as he wrung his hands, feet shuffling between moving closer or further away. “Are you okay?” he asked slowly, voice low as if worried any louder will cause North to break.

“Fine, fine, I’m fine,” North assured quickly, putting more force into his voice in the hopes it would cover up the wobbling. “Just got something in my eyes, that’s all.” Varian still didn’t look sure, but North found himself staring down at the book again. It felt like an invisible weight had settled itself onto his shoulder, discomfort making his skin crawl as he considered his next choice carefully. The words _garbage, drivel, distraction,_ beat against his temple, as guilt gnaws its way into his skull. Winters isn’t here though; he probably wasn’t keeping track of him at all. Even if he was, North didn’t want to ever see him again, didn’t want to _feel_ like this again. A new emotion suddenly surfaces, so overwhelming that it crushes the guilt into a small, crumbled ball.

Spite.

Looking back up, he smiled gratefully as he pulled the book close. “Thank you for giving me this, I’ll start reading it right away.”

Varian perked. “Really?” he asked, bright smile slowly reappearing when North nodded. “That’s great, it’ll be nice to talk to somebody about Flynn.” He gasped, hands flying to his mouth as excitement returned full force. He began to bounce a little, North reaching out in concern as he watched the coffee table strain. “We could start a book club!”

“Varian, what are you doing on the table!?”

North barely managed to grab his wrist, keeping Varian from falling back, pulling so he was back on his feet. They both let out a sigh of relief, turning to find Quirin hovering nearby with his hands raised in alarm. Varian chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head, “I was uh, seeing what it’s like to be tall?” he said, pink dusting his cheeks as he shrugged helplessly. He quickly jumped off, rubbing his arm as he looked away.

Quirin sighed heavily, rubbing at his face. “I assume you got all your chores done?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, then you should hurry up and meet Marcus, it’s almost time for work.”

“Right! Sorry, I just wanted to get North a book to read.”

“Oh?” North mentally cursed as Quirin turned his attention to him, subconsciously pulling the book closer to his chest. They stared at each other for a moment, assessing the other. Varian looked awkwardly between them. “You’re going to the fields again?”

“Yes,” North said, putting as much finality into that one word to get across that he wasn’t going anywhere else. While North had considered exploring Old Corona, hoping to finally find a map of wherever he was, Quirin had made a not-so-subtle attempt to always keep an eye on him. If he wanted to go into town, Quirin was adamant about joining him. Even joining Varian at the field he was put under the watchful eye of Marcus. It was aggravating, the only saving grace being that he was able to talk more with Varian. Something Quirin didn’t like, if the occasional glare was any indication.

Quirin’s eyes closed his eyes for a moment. “Alright,” he said, barely able to keep down the displeasure as he fixed North with a stern glare. “Behave yourself.”

North scowled. “Same to you.”

“Okay, time to go!” Varian exclaimed loudly, tugging North off the couch as gently as possible and shoving him towards the door.

North protested, trying to dig his heels in. “Wha- hey, hold on, I need a bookmark!”

“It’s fine, just use the corners!”

“You can’t just – it ruins the – Varian!”

Quirin, still standing in the middle of the room, began counting back from ten.

* * *

North was, honestly, grateful for the book. He’d already spent a couple days with Varian, and while their conversations were never dull, watching people work could only be so entertaining. Sleeping had been an idea, but left him feeling exposed and agitated, like he should be doing something else. He didn’t have a map to study, and more than likely Marcus would report it to Quirin if he did try. He, for a brief moment, wished he could practice his magic but knocked the thought away as quickly as it came. There was no point in that anymore. Besides, he was still injured, and the villagers probably wouldn’t be too thrilled if he started throwing spells around. Thankfully, none of them had been cruel since the town meeting, but they side-eyed him a lot more and gave him plenty of space. Which worked out great for him, because he sorely needed it right now.

Glancing over the field, he gave a satisfied hum when he found Jude still hadn’t returned. Good. He could focus on something that actually mattered.

The book felt like a rock had been placed in his lap.

Ten minutes passed, clawed fingers carefully tracing the picture and words as his tail swished uneasily behind him. That invisible weight had returned to his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he blew it out loudly, giving his shoulders a quick shake before opening the book.

* * *

“So?” Varian asked, a couple days later during a lunch, excitement barely restrained. They sat away from everybody, as they usually did, tucked under a tree. Today Varian had prepared them lunch though, the topic of interest sitting next to North as he munched on an apple, face twisted.

North wished he had a knife to peel the skin off, not just because the skin was disgusting, but to put off this conversation as much as possible. It’d make a great excuse; he could claim that he needed concentration or he might cut a finger off. Instead, he’s stuck chewing slowly on this one, gross bite. Swallowing, he lets out a resigned sigh. “Well,” he drawled, keeping his eye on the apple.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it.”

North looked up in surprise. Varian didn’t look too upset, though it was obvious he wasn’t happy about it either despite the forced smile. “It’s not that I didn’t like it,” North said, frustrated as he tried to figure out how to explain himself. “It’s not badly written or anything like that, it’s just.” Despite his better judgement, he trailed off, worry making his hands flex. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”

“How do you know that if you don’t tell me?” Varian asked. He shifted closer, not enough to touch but to show interest, peering curiously at North. “Come on, I’ve been waiting days to find out what you think. If you didn’t like something, I won’t judge.”

North stared. Over the past few days, Varian had shown he was more than happy to answer whatever questions North had. He’d even asked how farming worked and, rather than be met with a scoff and eyeroll, they’d spent the whole day talking about the process. It’d led further into discussing some of the inventions Varian had thought up, such as a machine that would be able to plant crops simply by wheeling it down the rows. While North wasn’t an inventor, could hardly picture the machines Varian detailed, any suggestion he, cautiously, proposed wasn’t met with exasperation or annoyance. If anything, even if the suggestion wouldn’t work, Varian seemed more than happy to consider it. He never appeared to judge North at any point in their conversation.

This was different. This was an actual discussion on a topic they both knew. About a book series that was obviously Varian’s favorite. It’d be easy for him to dismiss any criticism, to claim that North was simply reading too much or too little into the text, that he wasn’t capable of understanding Flynn Rider. North felt like a noose had finally lowered around his neck, the chair ready to be pulled out from under him. Maybe Varian was always happy to answer his questions because he clearly didn’t know enough about inventing, alchemy, and farming to dispute it. Maybe Varian simply liked being smarter than somebody else, and so was happy to entertain his curiosity. North pursed his lips, the thought sitting uncomfortably in his chest.

He didn’t like thinking that way.

Taking a breath, North said as naturally and evenly as possible, “Flynn Rider is the biggest asshole I’ve ever read about.” Varian’s jaw slackens, eyes going wide in surprise. North paused. Maybe he should have worded that more gently.

“But – but he saved the village from the evil knight?!” Varian finally managed.

“Yeah, because the knight was hoarding a bunch of treasure in the nearby ruins! If it wasn’t for that Flynn wouldn’t have even bothered to look in that villages direction.”

“He still shows concern though, on,” Varian grabs the book, flipping through the pages before handing it back to North, pointing at a passage. North carefully looks over it again. “Here. He’s clearly unhappy when he realizes the knight is taking so much that they can hardly sustain themselves.”

“But again, he _only_ involves himself after he realizes that the Knight has treasure! Him feeling sorry for them doesn’t make his actions heroic.”

“He still feels _something_ though. That’s what makes him such a compelling character. He tries to keep up this persona who doesn’t care about anything even though he clearly does. Otherwise, why would he challenge the knight to a one vs. one duel to make him leave? Even at the end, he didn’t take _all_ the treasure, he left quite a bit for the villagers to take back.”

“Probably because he couldn’t carry all of it.”

“He stole one of the minion’s horses at the end, he could have easily rode off with one or two more bags of treasure. I ran the calculations myself,” Varian said, arms crossing as he boldly declared, “Flynn Rider is a hero.”

“He’s an anti-hero if anything, and it still doesn’t change the fact I think he’s an ass,” North said, trying not to be too bothered when Varian huffed in annoyance. Maybe it was time to change the subject? “Though, I’ll admit, he’s got a lot of skill. I thought it’d come off forced but it feels really natural to him. That final fight with the knight was unexpected though!”

“Right!” Varian said, expression changing to excitement. North sagged a little with relief. “When he agreed to the challenge and put on the blindfold, I was sitting on the edge of my seat. I never knew you could fight without seeing, so reading about him using his other senses and relying on his memory of the area made it really tense. And when the knight revealed he could throw his voice?”

“That was pretty intimidating,” North said, remembering how he could barely take his eyes off the page when he got to that scene. “Thinking you have a handle on the situation only for the enemy to pull the rug from under you? It was incredible when Flynn revealed that the sword gave off a particular sound and that’s how he located the knight. I’m surprised he stuck with the challenge at all, though. I was expecting him to rip the blindfold off or reveal that he could see through it the whole time.”

“Oh? Are those compliments?” Varian asked, grinning smugly while North rolled his eyes. “Almost like Flynn is actually a good, honorable person deep down.”

“I barely complimented him and I still stand by what I said.”

“Why don’t you like him anyway?” Varian asked, sounding genuinely curious rather than annoyed like North expected.

“He’s just so,” North trailed off, squinting down at the book as flipped absently through the pages. He happened across the passage that made him scowl. “Egotistical.” Varian cocked his head to the side, and North reluctantly continued when it was clear he was waiting for further explanation. “There’s this entire passage that is just him admiring his looks, _while_ he’s in the middle of breaking into the ruins. He just stops and starts staring at himself in a puddle of all things, and then finds a broken mirror. It’s annoying. Going back to what I said earlier though: he was planning to pass through the village, completely ignoring all the talk about the evil knight that was shaking them down for protection, until he found out about the treasure. It just seems like helping the people was more of a bonus than an actual goal, and I can’t help but get the feeling he doesn’t really care how well they do. Just how much money lines his pockets. Even his fight with the knight seems less about being honorable and more about the challenge itself, the thrill of fighting a strong opponent and beating the odds. Which tracks because while everybody else is terrified about the ruins, the knight and his gang, the possible ghosts, Flynn acts like a tourist seeing the sights. He’s infuriating.” North stopped, flushing as he realized how much he’d been talking, peering cautiously at Varian.

Varian blinked several times as he absorbed the information, the surprise clear on his face as he went over everything. “I think I see your point?” he said slowly, brow furrowing with careful consideration. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve grown up with his stories, but I think he genuinely cares about the people he runs into. He wasn’t planning on helping the village at first, but there’s hesitation there when he thinks about leaving, and he’s clearly unhappy with the knights activities. To me, the treasure is an _excuse_ , a way for him to help the village without being obvious about it.”

“What, why?” North asked, thoroughly lost as he tried to figure out what part gave Varian that idea. “If he wanted to help the village, he should have just helped the village. Why the excuse?”

“Because he’s Flynn Rider, the most notorious thief in the seven kingdoms,” Varian said, “it’s what expected of him. He’s not supposed to just _help_ people, he’s supposed to steal from them. So, he thinks he can’t help them because it’s not what he’s supposed to do, but by adding in the treasure Flynn has the perfect reason to go defeat the evil knight and subsequently free the village. Get it?”

North took a moment to consider but slowly shook his head ‘no’ in the end.

Varian shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “That what I think anyway,” he said, “and I know you read his actions as more thrill-seeking, but I think he has a genuine respect for the knight’s abilities. He’s constantly complimenting him and admiring his skills, both in and out of battle. He recognizes him as a knight with no purpose, who has taken up a path led by corruption and greed. So, when the knight issues the challenge, Flynn acts honorably and never removes the blindfold, no matter how difficult the fight becomes. While the knight, who has lost his honor, feels he can only win by going after those that are weaker than him. He knew that if he fought Flynn one-on-one, he would have lost hands down, the blindfold was him trying to score an easy victory. By Flynn winning fair and square, with just his skills? He shows that despite his own criminal background that he is still capable of acting honorably, that he doesn’t have to use cheap tactics to win his fights. He reminds the knight of who he used to be, who he’s supposed to be.”

North pondered that explanation, trying to work from whatever angle Varian was looking through. No matter how much he twisted though, he didn’t understand. “You really look up to Rider,” he said instead, feeling another change in subject was in order before they started talking in circles.

Varian chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s kind of my hero,” he admitted, pink dusting his cheeks. “Plus, I’ve read this book a hundred times, I’ve had plenty of time to think about him.” They lapsed into a comfortable silence, North quietly noting that lunch was almost over. Marcus was back and making his rounds to each group, checking in on them, so it was only a matter of time before Varian had to get back to work. Maybe he’d read over a few more passages from Rider, try to see Flynn from a different angle. “I know you didn’t like Flynn too well,” North looked over at Varian in surprise, finding him leaning comfortably against the tree now, “but I do have some other books if you’d rather read those.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” North said, amused when Varian looked to him in surprise, “yeah, Flynn is…irritating, but the author is still an amazing writer. He really knows what he’s doing, I don’t think I’ve read a book that conveyed a place so clearly. And the way he gave the knights background through the memorabilia he carried on him rather than having him dumping information? There’s just so much to analyze that isn’t made obvious right away. I wouldn’t mind reading more from him.”

“Really!?”

“Varian!” They looked over in surprise to find Marcus waving at them. “It’s time to get back to the fields!”

“Coming!” Varian stood quickly, brushing off whatever crumbs had clung to him. He’d hardly stepped out of the shade of the tree before he spun on his heel, his bright, blue eyes and equally stunning smile pinning North to the spot. “After work there’s something I want to show you.”

Snapping out of his stupor, North tilted his head curiously, tail flicking next to him. “Oh?”

“I’ve got a few theories I’d like to run by you,” Varian said, and despite his excitement there was an underlying nervousness to it as he tacked on, “if you’re interested.”

“Sure, sounds fun,” North agreed.

“Great, I’ll see you after work!” Varian called over his shoulder, smile back in full force.

North stared after him, giving a soft huff of amusement when he realized he was smiling just as much. That had gone much better than he’d expected, leaving him feeling genuinely curious about what theories Varian wanted to discuss rather than the creeping dread he was expecting. Feeling lighter, he picked up the book and began to re-read whatever passage suited his fancy, absently taking a bite of the apple. Immediately he put it down, face twisting as he forced himself not to spit it out.

He was going to ask Varian for a knife next time.

* * *

It had taken some begging on Varian’s part, with North standing awkwardly in the background as he for once tried to appear semi-friendly, but Quirin had finally agreed to let them into the lab. Under the condition that there would be no alchemy of course, which Varian had quickly agreed to.

The lab itself was…

Well…

It probably wasn’t the most impressive lab in the world, but it was still impressive for a farm boy living in a small village. There weren’t any chemicals out, but several beakers, test tubes and other alchemical equipment lined the tables ready for use. A couple of machinery were shoved off to the side, some looking half-finished while others looked like they’d fallen off a cliff. One, set a bit away from the others, looked like the planter Varian had been talking about, with several parts strewn around it. There were a lot of books too, some sitting neatly on shelves with other equipment, or placed randomly throughout the lab.

What caught his attention the most was an odd metal table on a raised wooden platform, a forest of mechanical limbs sitting at the head, each with a device that he could just barely make out. To add to the grandness, several other machines were hooked up to its sides, the large metal container to the left that had several pipes running under the platform catching his attention the most, before following the pipes to another device. This one was a curious metal box with a couple levers poking out of it, a couple of dials and two tall metal coils sticking out the top. North couldn’t stop staring, with every blink he found a new piece of the structure to admire. “Whoa.”

“That’s my analyzer,” Varian said, coming up next to him to admire the device with pride, “if you take a sample of anything and put it through, this bad boy will run several tests on it and tell you exactly what it’s chemical makeup is.”

“Really? And it works?”

Varian laughed. “Of course it does, why wouldn’t it? I created it after all.” As if hearing the call of hubris, a mechanical limb suddenly fell off the head of the table. They stared at it for a moment, North eventually looking over at a nervously laughing Varian. “I’ll, uh, I’ll tighten that later. But that’s not what I’m here to show you, come on!” North stole another look at the incredible machine, before following Varian to the back of the lab.

Varian stood in front of an old, green curtain, holding a rope. “I present to you, my collection!” With one tug, the curtains were drawn to reveal a shrine to the legend himself, Flynn Rider. One poster acted as the main attraction, Flynn smirking devilishly back at him with the Coronan seal sitting neatly in the corner. There were a few other posters plastered around, each sporting the same side profile but with a completely different nose. Several of his books were placed around him, a boot sitting on one pile. A knife stuck out of the wall next to a small satchel and –

“Is that hair?” North asked, squinting at the at the little bundle tied neatly in a green bow.

“Yep!” Varian said, looking far too proud in North’s quiet opinion. That piece was a little much. “I actually bought it off somebody who ran into Rider when he was just a kid. He cut this piece off while he was trying to chase him off, but Rider _still_ managed to make off with his goods! He kept it out of spite, but was finally ready to part with it and find peace. For a price.”

North stared. “How much did that cost?”

“That’s not important,” Varian dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Now, remember how I mentioned I have a couple theories.” North looked between him and the hair piece, quietly stressing over whether he should push the subject or leave it. Reluctantly he chose the latter, finally taking his eyes off the hair to nod at Varian. “Okay, so nobody knows who the author is right? No matter how many people try to figure it out, it’s always been a mystery, because whoever they are they’ve never put their name on a single book. We can’t even be sure if all the Tales of Flynnigan Rider are written by the same person. It could multiple individuals working together, or separate people making money off a popular series. I’ve noticed several inconsistencies throughout the series which could support this theory, as having multiple authors would surely lead to some confusion over details. However, I think I’ve finally figured it out. See, for a decade plus, there’s been reports of an individual thief running around by the name Flynn Rider,” he tapped the poster for emphasis, “I believe that this man is actually the author of the series and has finally stepped out of the shadows to take the title for himself. Boom!”

“That,” North started slowly, ignoring the small twinge of regret when he saw how pleased Varian looked, “sounds a little farfetched. So a thief is running around with the same name, how does that make him the author? It would be more likely he stole the name just like he stole everything else.”

“Ah, a good question, but something you don’t know yet is that in every book there is a couple paragraphs detailing Flynn’s looks –”

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“ – and each one has the exact same description, if worded slightly different. Nicely kept hair, dark, smoldering eyes, flawless skin, chiseled cheekbones, nicely shaped eyebrows, and a smirk that could make anybody swoon.” Varian tapped each detail for emphasis, not noticing North peering curiously at him. “However, what they always change is this. His nose. In every book his nose is _hardly_ mentioned, sometimes they don’t even bother. But it’s _always_ different in some way. Just like these posters!”

“Okay?”

“Now, something you’ll find out throughout the series is that the writing gets a bit more complicated. The first couple stories usually feature the same thing: Flynn shows up somewhere, he’s planning to steal something, there’s some bad guys, some swooning ladies, the metaphorical wrench is thrown, and then Flynn wins through his skills and cunning. However, the later series start to get more complicated. Heists, stakeouts, plans that go awry, more characters with various ties to Flynn and each with their own motivation, mob bosses, betrayals, team ups, breaking out of jail, breaking into jail! It’s like the author knows what it’s like to be a part of the criminal underground. Which he does because he is Flynn Rider!” Varian gestured widely at the poster, practically vibrating with excitement. “I bet the author wanted to get a real, authentic experience for what it’s like to be a thief so he could make the best series he could but was swayed by the excitement and never left. And these posters,” he smacked one that had a very large, round nose, “are actually his way of advertising the series, using an obscure detail that only true fans would notice.”

“So he’s doing his own posters?”

“Or he’s paying somebody off to constantly paint them differently each time.”

North doesn’t answer for a long time, staring at the poster of Flynn Rider that smirks mockingly back at him. There was a lingering question at the back of his mind asking if he really wanted to deal with this character harping about his own appearance for several books. Shaking it away, he focused back on topic. “How many hours of sleep did you get when coming up with that theory?” he asked.

“That’s not important.”

“Varian.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Varian looked away sheepishly. “I might have spent a few hours,” he paused, “days working on it.”

“Right. Okay.” Clasping his hands together, North brought them up to his face, almost looking like he was praying. After a moment he pointed at Varian with his hands. “I don’t think this guy is the author of the series, it sounds farfetched, but!” North added the last word quickly when Varian started to deflate, “I also can’t prove it’s not him either.”

Varian considered for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders. “Fair,” he agreed, coming to stand next to North as they looked over the shrine.

Looking between the posters, amused by how similar they all were except for that one feature, North wondered. “Besides, wouldn’t it be more likely that these are multiple people?” Varian blinked at him, prompting North to elaborate. “You said yourself, it could be possible that more than one person is writing the series. What if all these posters are of different people? It could also be that all the “Flynn’s” in the series are also inspired by different stories, which is why their noses are hardly mentioned because it gives them all away.”

“And you said mine was farfetched,” Varian teased, though he was now looking at the posters with renewed interest as he rubbed his chin.

“It is and so is mine, but it’s funny to think about,” North said with a small, hesitant grin. “A bunch of different people being mistaken for the same person and then conspiring together to build a book series? Sounds overly complicated.”

Varian hummed, smiling himself. “And horrifying, do you know how many wanted posters he has? Each one with a different nose?” He waited, letting North ponder the question before continuing. “Easily double digits. The only way these people all look alike is if they were born at the same time, and I don’t think that’s physically possible for any mother. At least not without some _serious_ health complications.”

North snapped his fingers. “Tragic backstory. They blame each other for their mothers death and are now in a competition to see who can write the better book.”

“Or, they’re all clones of the original Flynn Rider,” Varian exclaimed, dropping his fist into his palm at the realization, “there was a story about him finding a mirror that could make a double of himself but with _slight_ differences! Maybe they’re all clones and are now running free!”

“No, no, no, I’ve figured it out, clearly there’s only one reason why all these posters have different noses,” North said, giving Varian a moment to prepare himself for the groundbreaking truth, “he’s wearing a nose mask.”

Varian coughed, laughing in surprise as he pulled away to stare incredulously at a grinning North. The image of Flynnigan Rider having multiple fake noses sitting on a vanity, looking over them critically as he decided what to wear for his next heist, came unbidden. “He’s wearing a _what_?”

“A nose mask,” North repeated as evenly as he could, shoulders shaking as he barley kept his laughter at bay, “he, he puts on different nose so that people are never sure if its him or not, while creating the illusion that there’s multiple Flynn Riders. Or maybe his original nose is so hideous he has to hide it away behind a mask.”

“That’s, that’s so dumb!”

“You don’t have any room to talk!”

“Yeah but at least mine makes sense on some level!”

“What, what level? Above the clouds, because you definitely didn’t develop it on the ground!”

They’re words disappeared as they fell into laughter, North curling his arms tightly around himself as he ducked his head to get some semblance of control back. It was ruined every time he met Varian’s eyes, an undignified snort escaping him as they began another round of giggling. It was stupid, it wasn’t even that funny, but it’s hard to stop laughing.

“I, I still think,” Varian said between dying chuckles, “I still think he’s the author, but that nose mask is a good idea.”

“No it’s not,” North said, shaking his head at the very idea. “Your idea about the clone mirror at least sounds interesting.”

“Oh!” Varian straightened suddenly, eyes wide with realization. “That reminds me of something else I wanted to show you!” He didn’t finish, darting off to a desk as he began shuffling through it.

North followed, raising an eyebrow down at the mess of rolled up papers in the drawer and the various stains that covered the desk. Mostly ink stains, but it also looked like some parts had been burned. Shaking his head, North leans against the desk and waits patiently, curiosity keeping his growing exhaustion at bay. As much as he was enjoying all of this, there was going to be a point where they’d have to put this conversation on hold for another day. Especially so they could get dinner, he was starting to get hungry.

“Here it is!”

Snapped from his thoughts, North leaned curiously over as Varian placed a rolled up paper on the desk. He glanced behind them, staring at the door for a moment before unfurling it for North to see. It was a surprisingly good drawing of what looked like an odd sword, the tip curved to make two points instead of one, with two different colored pieces coiling around it, and another one around the hilt. “It’s Escelia, the sword the knight uses!” Varian excitedly explained, fighting to keep his voice low. “I think I finally figured out a way to make it. Granted it took a lot of trial and error, the last one _might_ have melted, but it should act the way it does in the book.” He shot North a warning look, stealing another glance at the door. “Don’t tell dad.”

“Wait,” North stood up properly so he could study the blueprint more closely, carefully holding down his side to keep it unfurled. There were several formulas written on Varian’s side, and around the makeshift sword were various notes about materials for crafting. He couldn’t help but gawk, looking between the sword and Varian. “You seriously think you can bring Escelia to life?”

“Of course, I can!” Varian exclaimed, already beginning to puff up with pride. “You’ve seen my analyzer, I can build anything.”

“I’ve seen it, but I haven’t seen it work,” North said, making mental notes of how much material Varian needed. It didn’t look like much, mostly it was the chemicals he needed the most.

“Well it does,” Varian huffed, “I’ll show you later. Until then, I can one-hundred percent guarantee that I can make this sword.”

“Will it be able to cut through anything?”

“Uh, duh, it’s not going to be Escelia if it can’t cut through solid stone, right?” Varian’s chuckle trailed off as he thought about it, before giving a small, sheepish shrug. “Well, the chemicals I’m using, once they’re placed in their respective tubes, will allow it to cut through anything with a slight burning effect, but it’s still very close to the original.”

“Still impressive,” North agreed absently, mind whirling. Escelia was able to cut cleanly through anything, it was something heavily emphasized throughout the book. The fact that Varian seemed to be close to recreating it, even with that slight difference, was beyond impressive. It also made him curious about his own talent, as Escelia was a magically enchanted sword for it to hold such power. However, he didn’t know of any spells that would allow a weapon to cleave through items like a hot knife through butter. Was that possible? Would he be able to make a sword that deadly, how would that enchantment work? Was he going to be around long enough to see this come to fruition?

A thought crawled from its hiding place: was it normal, okay, to put time into something like this when by all accounts there was no other reason than personal enjoyment?

“Thanks, by the way.” North blinked, mind snapping back to the present, barely holding back the noise of disappointment when Varian began to roll up the blueprint. “It’s nice, having somebody to talk to about all of this. I don’t really get to talk about Flynn Rider with, well, anybody.”

“What about the other kids? It’s a popular series, after all, someone else must have read it,” North said cocking his head to one side as he watched Varian carefully place the blueprint back into the drawer. A drawer that was full of other rolls of paper, all of them possibly carrying another invention. Squashing down that curiosity, he focused back on Varian, picking up quickly on the lack of answer and tensed shoulders. “Or your dad?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but the other kids aren’t exactly eager to talk to me,” Varian said, trying to sound unaffected despite how bitter the words were. It was something North had noticed, but he’d assumed that was more because of him than Varian. “Dad isn’t into Flynn Rider, and he’s often too tired or busy to talk about it anyway. Much less about my inventions.” North’s eyes narrowed instantly, something about that statement pulling at a swirl of negative emotions he couldn’t identify but was unsurprised to find their cause being Quirin. He was immediately distracted as Varian turned to him with a genuinely happy smile. “So, thank you. For listening.”

North couldn’t answer, mentally floundering as he tried to gather the right words to respond. “No problem,” he managed, then immediately wanted to throw himself off the roof. That had to be the worst response, but it was out there and that was their cue to leave the conversation. Everything suddenly felt personal, vulnerable and North wasn’t sure how to handle any of it. “We should get back before your dad comes looking for us.”

If Varian was disappointed by the response, it wasn’t obvious. “…Right.”

North followed him back to the house, mind suddenly back in working condition, at least enough to say, “At least you’ll have Escelia, unlike Rider. You’re not going to leave it with a bunch of random people.”

“Flynn Rider doesn’t need that kind of weapon though. Just his skills and charm!”

“How do you not need a sword that can cut through anything? It can cut through anything!”

“Look, I think we both know that he didn’t take it because the writer wants to start fresh with each book.”

“Yeah, but that’s boring. Couldn’t they just give Rider tougher enemies?”

“They could, but then they’d have to up the stakes each time he gets a magical item. Which happens, like, every book.”

“…Wait, am I going to read about Flynnigan Rider obtaining an amazing magical artifact only for him to, for whatever reason, ditch it by the end of the book?”

“…”

“That’s so lame. What’s the point of getting a magical artifact if you don’t get to actually keep and use it?”

“You don’t _have_ to read it you know.”

“No, I’m gonna.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: this explanation for why Varian thinks Eugene is the actual author of the book series does not make a lot of sense  
> Also me: It's a conspiracy theory  
> Me: Oh yeah


End file.
